


Salva Nos

by Ajora Fravashi (ajora)



Series: Salva Nos universe [1]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Frontier, Digimon Savers | Digimon Data Squad, Digimon Tamers, Digimon Xros Wars | Digimon Fusion
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 195,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajora/pseuds/Ajora%20Fravashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 2000, something went wrong and changed history as we know it. 15 years later, Takeru and Daisuke get involved in the effort to build a new world. (AU, anime/Wonderswan game crossover)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roaming Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I don't own Digimon. Toei/Bandai does. Also, the premise is partially based on Jeremiah (original comic by Hermann Huppin, written for TV by J. Michael Straczynski, and copyright by MGM Television Entertainment) as well as general history. However, I will often go on my own way with the premise and make no attempt to slavishly adhere to the original sources. This is just a fanfic and I'm making no money off of it. Please don't sue me.
> 
> This is a gen fic, and as such any couples are not the focus. You may, however, take any hints and run with them. Just don't expect more than is actually given in the story. Also, while it may be dark in places, do keep in mind that this is ultimately a story of hope.
> 
> P.S. Word of warning: This originated as a NaNoWriMo fic, so the pacing for the first few chapters may be a bit awkward. I apologize, and will address it when I finish the entire fic and can go back over it to fix any errors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his quest to find his parents 15 years after they disappeared, Takeru meets Daisuke and they come across a town ruled by a Queen who will do anything to gather more resources for her people.

_Thus saith the Lord of hosts, Behold, evil shall go forth from nation to nation, and a great whirlwind shall be raised up from the coasts of the earth._

_And the slain of the Lord shall be at that day from one end of the earth even unto the other end of the earth: they shall not be lamented, neither gathered, nor buried; they shall be dung upon the ground._

\- Jeremiah 25:32-33

Around every event, every possibility, circles an infinite number of "what if" and "what may be". They are nonexistent realities, unknown and unseen to most. Some science fiction authors explore these unseen realities and the possibilities which may spring up should something happen to alter how we perceive reality. This is the story of one of many nonexistent realities. Alternative universe, as it were.

In the year of 1999, there were those people who believed that the apocalypse would come with the dawn of the new millennium. They warned and their warnings were ignored. After all, people had other things to worry about. In Japan there were a group of children who had encountered beings from a "digital world," and these children had an adventure that at least somewhat prepared them for what was to come. The Digital World had taught them to survive.

It came like a great shadow sweeping over the Earth. Warnings of a plague breaking out in North America spread over the globe with the speed of wildfire, and everyone fought to save themselves. It was a man-made virus designed to target those were over the age of puberty and took root in hormone receptors only active in adulthood, it was spread by touch and had no cure. In an age of globalization, it wasn't long before Death's scythe had swung down to slice away the lives of all the adults in the world. The apocalypse had come on the ides of March in 2000 and lasted for six months, and as far as anyone knew, only the children were left alive.

.*.

In the fifteen years since the Apocalypse, those left behind had to learn to fend for themselves. Cities were abandoned by survivors who instead took to the wilderness. After all, who would want to live in cemeteries? Many wandered from place to place. These nomads would say that it was better this way, but never admit to the fact that their subconscious minds had equated a sedentary existence to an invitation for Death to come knocking. Wandering meant evading Death. Wandering was freedom.

Takaishi Takeru was one such nomad. He existed on the fringes of those towns built by leaders and gang warlords, staying only long enough to stock up on supplies, trade, and gather what information he could before moving on to the next town. Unlike the other nomads, he had a mission and a digimon. Tokomon remained hidden in his backpack and was let out only when Takeru was certain that no one else was around. An awful existence, but in a world where law was usually found at the end of a gun's muzzle, it was better to be safe than sorry.

It was while Tokomon was nibbling contentedly on a bit of smoked salmon within his backpack that Takeru reflected on his personal mission. During the chaos that swarmed the streets of Tokyo, his parents had told himself and his brother to stay in the safety of their father's apartment in Odaiba. He wanted to go after them. He really did. He cried after his mother, only to be held within Yamato's arms as his mother said that she was going to Amaterasu's Cave and then locked the door behind her.

That had been the last time either of them had seen their parents alive. He couldn't remember exactly when Poyomon and Tsunomon joined them or why, but he was grateful for the presence of his digimon partner in the time when the world grew dark. They huddled together, brothers and digimon partners, as the adult world gave its last rattled breath and collapsed outside.

The end of the world couldn't have been more horrible. Nearly six billion lives went out in half a year. When the electricity finally died and they were out of food, the brothers extracted themselves from the apartment. Takeru still had nightmares about what he saw, and he suspected that every child in the world had the same nightmare. The bodies of teenagers and adults laid where they had died, with skin smeared in dried blood where it wasn't tinged with the yellow-blue mottled complexion of decay. The stench was horrible and overpowering, the raucous cries of feeding crows raked against his eardrums, and all throughout he had been on the verge of either breaking down and crying or throwing up. Sometimes both. Half the time he tugged at Yamato's hand in an attempt to urge his brother back to the safety of their apartment, but Yamato's jaw was set and that had always been a good indicator that he wouldn't budge from his decision.

After snatching some canned food from an abandoned convenience store called Ai-Mart, they set off on their grand quest. They were going to find Amaterasu's Cave. Their parents weren't among the dead, of that the brothers were certain, so they must be at Amaterasu's Cave. Wherever that was.

They had wandered from settlement to settlement together for over a year, staying only long enough to gather what information they could. No one had heard of Amaterasu's Cave, and if they did, they laughed and said it was only a myth. Eventually Yamato gave up. They were just following a ghost trail, his brother said, and it was better to find somewhere to settle and figure out what to do with the rest of their lives. But what did one do in a world where anyone over the age of puberty had died and there were no more teachers?

Unsurprisingly, Yamato picked up a guitar along the way and learned how to play it and read music from a boy with long, bluish-black hair. With Yamato's skill with the guitar and voice, and the other boy's skill with his bass, they wandered with a new purpose: to bring music back into the world. Takeru felt useless. He didn't have any musical abilities of his own or anything to contribute. Reassurances when concert turn-outs were low felt too hollow and insubstantial in the still-looming shadow of the apocalypse. He had to split away when he turned sixteen so he could resume the hunt for Amaterasu's Cave. Yamato had fought the decision, but nothing said or done could sway him.

Takeru was twenty-four now. He still ran into his brother sometimes, but their goals were too different. Yamato, Gabumon, and their new friend were happy with their touring, and he was content to wander and gather information. He walked now along a cracked and derelict highway, under a cloudy grey sky that threatened to break into rain. He didn't mind rain. Rain washed the unpleasant stuff away.

It was on this highway that he noticed a peculiar sight: that of another transient seated cross-legged on the edge of the asphalt. Transients were nothing new, but this one stared pointedly at him. Spiky brown hair, blue eyes that seemed more than a little crazy, rather handsome face for a total loon. That looked a bit familiar, but he couldn't remember why.

"I remember you."

With a brow furrowed in a mix of suspicion and curiosity, Takeru's response was less than friendly. "And who are you?"

"Eight children in a rainbow sky, eight children trapped by the god of a thousand years. Did you know there was a ninth? Or a thirteenth?" This lunatic acted as if he was making perfect sense. "Be wary of the rising sun, Hope, and the truth will wait for you at the edge of the rocky country."

Great. Riddles. Why was it always riddles? Before Takeru could open his mouth to ask what the hell this guy meant, a sudden crack of lightning and thunder clapped against the sky behind him. Startled, his head jerked to glance back at it in what was a purely reflexive motion. He silently swore at himself for being so jumpy and turned back to question the lunatic-

Only to find that the lunatic had disappeared. It was as if he had never been there at all. The only trace was a new mechanical pencil filled with graphite sticks that were all but nonexistent nowadays. Takeru shook off the chill that crept up his spine. He had needed a new pencil for his journal for days. How did the man know?

.*.

Later that day, Takeru had set up camp for the coming night. Fire licked away at the rock-encircled pile of dry wood, his digimon was napping soundly next to the brace of mandarin ducks and a pot of eggs waiting to be boiled, and he had completely forgotten about that nutcase. He was in such a good mood over the success of his hunt, in fact, that he took a few moments to clean up before settling down to prepare supper and food for the road.

It was during a quick dip in the river that he heard Tokomon call out to him in distress. With a curse under his breath, he paused only long enough to stomp into his pants before darting from the river shore to his campground. Tokomon had evolved to Patamon in the interim and was pulling hard at the shirt of a relatively short young man with brown eyes that matched the spiked mop on his head to keep him from escaping. This shorter man was someone Takeru would pass on the streets without noticing, but he had in his hands a pole with five ducks tied to it. _Takeru's_ ducks. Goddamn thieves!

With a snarl that betrayed his irritation, Takeru stalked towards this man and gathered the front of the man's garishly patterned leather jacket into his fists. He said nothing as he shoved the man before a tree and banged the man's head hard against the trunk. The man winced in pain at the bump.

"Geez, man! I'm sorry, okay?"

"What is with you people," Takeru snapped. "The world goes to hell and the only thing anyone gives a damn about is screwing over everyone else. Those were mine. Why'd you try to steal them?"

The shorter man squirmed uncomfortably in his hold. "I was hungry! I haven't eaten for days! I'm really sorry, please let me go!"

Patamon glanced worriedly at his partner as he hovered in the air besides the two. He didn't really think Takeru would hurt this guy, but he was still anxious. There was a long, tense moment before Takeru finally let the man go and snatched the brace of ducks that rightfully belonged to him. Patamon let out a sigh of relief and planted himself on his partner's head. The other man seemed kinda nice, even if he did steal. Surely he wouldn't be too freaked out by Patamon.

"You could have asked. I have enough to share." Takeru's stance relaxed slightly as he said this. If Patamon didn't feel threatened by this man's presence, that was good enough for him.

The brown-haired man gave a rather charming, infectious smile. "Well, it's sorta hard to think straight on an empty stomach, you know?"

A tiny smile quirked at Takeru's lips. He never did stay mad for too long, not over something like this. "Yeah."

"Name's Daisuke. Motomiya Daisuke." Daisuke practically beamed at him and stuck out his hand. "Would you share? I'd really appreciate it if you did."

Takeru blinked in bemusement at the hand. People these days would sooner stab you than act so friendly. It was a nice change. He shook the hand and wondered at Daisuke's mood. "Takaishi Takeru. We can have just one of the ducks. I'm trading the others in Osaba."

"Osaba? Really? I'm going there too! Want to go together? The walk will be a lot less boring that way."

It was within the haze of complete befuddlement at Daisuke's perky attitude that Takeru agreed. Well, there were worse people to accompany, and since the world was insane anyway, there really wasn't much he could complain about.

.*.

A thin sliver of a moon watched over the campsite of three young nomads. When once they would have been comfortable in an apartment with electric light to chase the shadows away, they talked in darkness that was only alleviated by the natural light of moon, stars, and campfire.

Daisuke was happy. He didn't usually run into someone who didn't want to kill him for some misperceived slight or chase him off. His new companion was much less stressful to be around than some of the people he'd run into every now and then, and that critter with Takeru was much friendlier than the feral dogs he had the misfortune of running from. It was, and yet wasn't, kinda like those monster things that invaded Odaiba's convention center back when he was a kid and before the world died. Patamon was much better company than that vampire monster thing he remembered from back then. It was a surprisingly good day, even if they had started off on the wrong foot.

"So, why are you two going to Osaba," he asked after swallowing a mouthful of succulent spit-roasted duck. "There's another town that's closer and along the same road."

"Just trade, since rumor says it has a bigger marketplace. And to find something."

"Find what?"

Takeru's lips pressed thin for a moment before he responded. "I don't suppose you've heard of Amaterasu's Cave, have you?"

"Can't say I have. Sorry." He really was rather sorry and his voice conveyed that feeling. It would be nice to pay Takeru back for the kindness, even if it was only with a bit of information. But maybe he could do something else. With a triumphant grin, he dug into his pocket to pull out a plastic bag filled with his special prizes. "Oh, hey, look."

Confused at Daisuke's sudden mood change, Takeru glanced down at what was in his companion's palm. His eyes widened in surprise. "Wha-"

"Konpeito!" Daisuke's eyes lit up with glee. "Found the bag behind a store a couple of years ago. No one makes these babies anymore, but they stay edible forever. I've been saving them for a special occasion, but you were nice to me, so if you want one or two, you can have it."

The taller of the two simply shook his head. As tempting as the offer was, and it had been over a decade since he'd last had any candy, this was clearly something Daisuke valued quite a lot. Anyone could shoot down a duck, but candy was nearly impossible to come by. Before Patamon could get any ideas of cajoling a candy star from Daisuke, Takeru chose to change the subject. "Say, what did you do before the Apocalypse?"

Daisuke blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the sudden subject change. It wasn't even a very pleasant subject. With a sigh, he shoved the bag of konpeito back into his pocket before responding. "I don't like to talk about it. Shit happened, y'know?"

"I know," Takeru said softly. "It's hard to talk about it. But sometimes we have to remember what went on before so we'll have goals to reach for."

He really, really didn't like this subject. "'Before' doesn't matter. 'Tomorrow' doesn't matter. What matters is what we do now, in the present. It's the present that we have to live in, and for most of us it's all we have."

"If you say so. But sometimes it's a good idea to remember the past so we don't make the same mistakes." Takeru frowned slightly. As much as he disliked Daisuke's attitude towards the past, it was all too common now. No one liked remembering.

In time, the three curled around the campfire to settle down and sleep. Once Daisuke had drifted off and Patamon was curled up at his side, Takeru pulled out his journal to record the day's bizarre nature by the dim light of the campfire. While most of the rest of the world may be content with forgetting, he needed this. It was the closest thing to therapy he could get, and it did feel nice to spill out his thoughts and feelings to an unemotional piece of paper. He told his journal about the lunatic and what-

_"Eight children in a rainbow sky,"_ the lunatic had said. A witness to the Vandemon fiasco wasn't unusual, but what the man had said about a ninth struck some sealed-away memory within him. He couldn't remember _why_ that man was familiar or why the mention of a ninth Chosen Child felt natural. There hadn't been a ninth, and yet... Oh, screw it. He could rake through his brain about it later. Sleep was a happy thing, and far be it for him to ignore its call.

Morning was as grey and overcast as the day before, and when Daisuke woke, Takeru and Patamon were asleep. It would be nice to stay, but his kind never stayed in one place for long. It was with a touch of friendship tinged with sadness over having to leave that he pulled out a couple of star-shaped pieces of konpeito from his precious bag and placed them next to Patamon. There was no way they could turn them down when he wasn't here, right? With that thought, he returned to the trail. While he could have made off with the ducks or eggs, he didn't bother. Kindness would be repaid with kindness.

.*.

Osaba was technically the name of an elementary school on the outskirts of Hiroshima, but a legendary queen had taken residence in the school and raised up a new town around it. She was said to be as beautiful as she was strong, as loved as she was feared. Rumor said that even her name suggested royalty.

Takeru strolled down the broken pavement that went through what would now pass as a central market. He was in a rather good mood, and Patamon had been so happy to have candy for the first time in over a decade that he had sucked slowly on the thing until there was nothing left. It was sort of disappointing that Daisuke had left without saying goodbye, but he wasn't all that surprised. The ducks and their eggs fetched enough canned food and potable water to last for a few weeks, and enough arrows to take down a few more animals to trade in. Maybe he and Patamon would try for a deer next time. It was a shame that he had to leave Patamon on the outskirts of town, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

During this stroll, he paid some attention to his surroundings. There was a farmer trading vegetables for useful household items, a fisherman with an Okinawan accent haggling over the worth of his fish versus the worth of a buyer's marten furs, a barber offering services for food. Vaguely he remembered a time when exchanges were done with money and suspected that this was probably a better form of supply exchange. Few people were really poor in such a society.

A turban-wearing man trying to hawk supposedly fully-charged batteries caught his attention. Around this merchant were naysayers and hecklers. One mocked him, another sarcastically pointed out that to have usable batteries was to have an electrical source to recharge them with. How could a world without electricity use burnt-out batteries? If they were genuine, they could fetch a lot. Gasoline or coffee was what the merchant asked for, and both requests were laughed at. It was like asking for chocolate when there was no way to make chocolate anymore.

And some people just take without trading. The sudden, loud staccato beat of a machine gun rent through the air as a warning shot, sending everyone into a panic. The shooter, a man with a trench coat and a badly trimmed beard, stalked up to the battery merchant and glared menacingly at him.

"Are they genuine?"

The seller gave a terse nod. He was unwilling to let go of his valuables, but his life was worth more and-

A shrill whistle sliced through the tense atmosphere of the market and everybody but the raiders and their leader, the man with the machine gun and trench coat, dropped to the ground and covered their necks with their hands. When Takeru heard the first shot from above, he too followed the natives' example and dropped to the ground. Gunshots rang loudly in the central market and didn't stop until all the raiders were dead. It was only then that Takeru looked up.

The queen of Osaba stepped gracefully from the stairs leading down from a building overlooking the market to the streets. Red-haired, lavender-eyed, and prettier than most of the women Takeru had seen, she certainly looked like the she was royalty. Royalty in practical denim pants and a fur-lined leather coat over an old Malice Mizer concert t-shirt, but still royalty. As the queen and her entourage descended, young children scrambled forth to pick up the bullets from the posse's guns for future use.

"Is everyone all right," the queen asked. Her subjects, there really wasn't a better word that Takeru's mind could supply him with, gave enthusiastic responses. She bestowed upon them little smiles to lighten up their day and they beamed back. Law at the end of a gun, and the locals didn't even care.

Takeru stared curiously after her, but a motion at the corner of his eye caught his attention and it took but a moment to realize that the man with the machine gun was still alive and taking aim at the queen. Without a thought as to the proper way to treat a queen, he tackled her and thus shoved her out of the line of fire just before the man shot into empty air.

The posse acted quickly and shot the would-be assassin until he stopped moving. Once they made sure there was no more danger to their queen, she dusted herself off and gave Takeru a quick "thank you" before returning to make sure her own people were not harmed.

Eventually, the queen stepped to a dead raider's side and pried the batteries from his hand. She regarded them with a critical eye and turned to the turban-wearing seller. "They're charged, right?"

Again the seller nodded, but he was much more relaxed now. The queen's reputation for harsh justice was well-known. She wouldn't shoot him. Much to his surprise, however, she pocketed the batteries and started to walk away. "Wait, you didn't pay for them-"

"This is my town. The raider that threatened you for them would have killed you, and my people have killed him. I am free to take what I want in exchange for protection." The queen gave him a look that was nearly arctic in its coldness. "Would you like to challenge that?"

"Er, ma'am?" Takeru wondered faintly why he was bothering to pipe up, but this kind of extortion was almost as bad as any raider's method. "The sign I saw when I came in said that there's only equal-value trading allowed. One object or service for another. If you make the rules, shouldn't you follow them? Set an example?"

She gave him one long, piercing stare before finally conceding. "You're right. Merchant!" The queen turned to the battery seller with a look that was almost sympathetic. "You may dig through your assaulter's pockets to see if he has anything of value. Whatever he has is yours."

All the merchant could do was nod in response. The batteries were supposed to be his big break, he would have used them to trade for really valuable stuff, but he would have to settle for this. With a sigh, he began rifling through the raider's pockets. Oh well, at least he was alive.

Once the queen and her posse marched away, Takeru frowned slightly and began asking around for a bar. Weird place, but he'd been in worse. He should probably watch his step, just in case.

.*.

In her world, Ruki was queen. There were no two ways about this. She fought tooth and nail for her position, and fought even harder to invest in the future. Some of the things she did in her climb to power weren't things she was proud of, but they were ultimately necessary and she didn't regret them in the end. After all, with great power came great responsibility. As queen of Osaba, she had a responsibility to her people. If protecting her people meant being ruthless towards the raiders that came through town every now and then, so be it.

When she came to Hiroshima with her mother and grandmother, she had been eight years old and they had come for a vacation. Then people started dying, yet her mother was miraculously spared. When someone noticed that Makino Rumiko was untouched by the virus while others died around her, government thugs in biohazard suits took her mother away. Six months later, the rest of the world died. And when her mother never came back, Ruki wrote her off as dead. All the adults were dead.

In the ensuing chaos brought about by badly thought out notions of "freedom" by those kids who were too stupid to realize that they needed adults, and after running with a few of the Clans, she knew she had to do something to protect herself from the bigger, stronger kids. Schools were the first targets of vandalism and arson, but they were the perfect forts and could be defended. If she learned anything from her mother, it was that men responded well to a pretty face. She used that to her advantage and convinced enough of the jocks to help defend her fort. Even at her age, she realized that the geeks were more useful than people gave them credit for, so they were the first to be placed under her wing. With a matron saint looking out for them, anyone who could understand a science or math textbook drew out from their hiding places to flock to Osaba Elementary School. With the great queen Ruki protecting them, they were free to research while others worked nearby farms or handled a gun.

It had been the perfect investment for the future. Thanks to those geeks, many of whom would have never survived on their own, Osaba was one of the most advanced towns to rise up after the mass death. Because of the organization and strategic skills of former chess masters, the clean water and agricultural planning by those who were once shoved into lockers, and the willingness of the jocks to obey her, Ruki's people loved her and didn't mind that she was always looking out for more resources to acquire.

It was this lust for more resources that drove Ruki to practically steal those batteries that day. One last handful of batteries was just what she needed to get her radio working again. Her would-be scientists had suspected that someone out there was broadcasting on radio waves, and anyone who had that kind of power would clearly have more resources than Osaba. Anyone with more resources than Osaba would be a potential threat, and she had to protect her people. And if rumors were true, those with more resources were from the Rocky Country that no one could find.

Once the last battery was put in place, she turned on the radio and listened carefully. There was nothing on most of the broadcast bands, and she was ready to give up until she heard it. It was an encrypted message, certainly, but it stood out against the static. Someone out there could broadcast on radio.

The great queen Ruki, as ruthless as she was beautiful, rose from her desk in the former principal's office and gave her second in command a predatory smirk. "Hirokazu. Have the foreigner brought to my office. The blond man from this morning. Also, I would like you to send a few people out for patrol and see if you can find anything unusual."

Hirokazu gave a quick nod and passed the orders along to a few underlings. As the queen's personal guard started on their orders, she opened the blinds and gazed proudly over her domain. It was a very productive day.

.*.

The nice thing about bars, Takeru had been quick to learn, was that they were good places to collect rumors while getting his fair share of socialization. After he traded in a few cans of food for poker chips used to buy alcohol and furtively asked around for information on Amaterasu's Cave, he settled into a stool at the bar and traded in a chip for something cheap, local, and tasted suspiciously like what he imagined to be horse urine. Well, the barkeeper did warn him.

To his left was a group of people who couldn't have been more than toddlers when the Apocalypse came, all chattering about big ghost cities where the dead came back on certain nights to look for their kids. Tokyo was a popular subject for these ghost stories, as were Fukuoka and Sapporo. Wild theories about what caused the mass deaths were thrown about, much to the barkeeper's disgust. Just another night in a bar that was just like any other.

When the theories got too wild, the barkeeper stalked from around the long table to stand before them and give them a piece of her mind. "Want to know what I think," she started, then continued before anyone could respond. "I think someone made that virus. I think that someone was so goddamn pleased with himself that he didn't watch out and it got bigger than him. It bit him in the ass. Then it got out and now we all have that jackass to thank for trying to play God!"

The barflies fell silent, and even the "band" with no idea how to play their instruments made no noise. It was one thing to shoot off wild theories that made no sense, but quite another to voice an opinion that seemed far more likely.

Eventually, unwilling to put any more thought into that suggestion, the barflies resumed spinning tales of evil spirits and devils. The pathetic excuse for music picked up again and everything was back to normal.

Takeru was soon joined by a deeply tanned Okinawan with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and eyes that were the same color. The Okinawan seemed friendly enough.

"I saw what you did back there, earlier today. Why'd you save her?"

"It was the right thing to do," Takeru said. Really, what was the point in asking such a question? And why was the Okinawan examining him?

The Okinawan leaned forward and let his voice grow quieter. "People who desire to do the right thing are a very rare commodity. Most normal people only look out for themselves."

"I'm not like 'most normal people,' whatever that means."

Now the Okinawan's voice was a whisper. "I'm from a group looking to do the right thing. We want to make things better for everyone. We could use someone like you."

Takeru mulled over what was clearly a recruitment attempt. He was torn. On one hand, it would be nice to join up with such a group and help out where he could. To help build a better world. On the other hand, he would have to drop his mission in order to do so, and he didn't want to abandon it quite yet. Not until he'd covered every nook and cranny of Japan and couldn't find what he was looking for. It was with some regret that he declined the offer.

The Okinawan gave a smile that he was sure was tinged in disappointment and bid him farewell. For awhile Takeru was left in peace after that encounter. At least, he was until another very tanned person took a seat next to his.

"Hey, fancy meeting you here." Daisuke grinned at him. "Where's Patamon?"

"Left him outside of town. I don't really think most people would take kindly to a little orange batpig," he stated dryly. "Find what you came for?"

A corner of Daisuke's lips turned down in a partial frown. "Well, not yet. She passed by here a few years ago, but no one has seen her since."

"Who?" That was surprising. Takeru hadn't expected that kind of reply to something that was more of a rhetorical question.

"My sister. Looks like me, but with longer hair. Haven't seen her, have you? She answers to 'Jun.'"

Takeru shook his head. He had seen a lot of people in his travels, but he would surely remember the girl if she was anything like her brother. After thanking Daisuke for the candy, which tasted better than he ever remembered, conversation turned to trade acquisitions and less personal things. Things would likely have continued along these lines, had not a member of the queen's posse come to escort Takeru to the fort. Something about Ruki extending a personal welcome.

Something nagged at the back of Daisuke's mind. It was the feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He was quite ready to follow Takeru and that goon with a gun, but someone stopped him. This someone, a man with spiky brown hair and half-mad blue eyes, whispered something that sounded both insane and rational.

"God says that it's not time yet. Hope must find himself again before all other factors join him on the playing field."

.*.

Takeru was marched past the guards posted at the school's entrance and up several flights of stairs to the principal's office. At least, it had once been a principal's office. Now it was the queen's throneroom.

She rose gracefully from the overstuffed leather office chair that was her throne and gave him a slight bow. "Welcome to Osaba. How do you like it so far?"

"Nice, better off than a lot of places I've been to," Takeru responded with considerable care. Something about this felt off, as if she wanted something from him. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what. It would probably be better to wait and see. "Why am I here?"

"You saved me." Simple, direct, devoid of emotion. "That doesn't happen every day. And since you're apparently new in town, I would like to pay a bit of that debt back. If you like it here, you are welcome to stay for a few days. However, before I show you around, I request information. What news is there of the world outside?"

Ah, something that pretty much everyone in Ruki's position wanted. Knowledge was power, after all. "The usual: raiders going from town to town robbing decent people, the pureblood gangs getting more violent, rumors of ghosts rising in Tokyo. Stuff like that."

The queen's lavender eyes pinned him under an uncomfortably probing gaze, as if staring at him alone would unearth any falsehoods. When she seemed to be satisfied with his answer, she gestured for Takeru to follow her.

During the walk down the hallways of a school that was now a fort, and during the times her cheering subjects weren't so loud, Ruki explained to him how she had gathered followers and rose to power. As she did so, he couldn't help but feel that she had plans for him that would never be mentioned. It would probably be best for his own interests to leave the moment he was free to.

They ended up in the science lab, where would-be scientists attended to bubbling concoctions and blueprints. One of them, a rather lanky young man with glasses set on a pale face and short bluish-black hair that seemed better kept than his colleagues', stepped forward to chatter excitedly to his queen.

"Ruki! You're just in time! We're done with the prototype, and it'll be awhile before we can power the entire building, but please take a look!"

At Ruki's nod, ratty old curtains that had probably been stolen from a house years ago were drawn back to reveal some sort of mechanical device. It was emitting steam and hooked up to a power switch that was reminiscent of some old Frankenstein movie.

"It's a really basic steam turbine cobbled together from several sources and builds," the head would-be scientist offered quickly. "Just a prototype. But look..."

At this, the would-be scientist turned and pulled on the power switch.

And someone said, "Let there be light," and there was light.

For the first time in fifteen years, for the first time since the Apocalypse, these orphaned children living in a new Dark Age saw tamed electricity bring a lightbulb to life. Takeru, having been so mired in despair for so long that he no longer recognized it, felt more at ease than he had in a very long time.


	2. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeru and Daisuke reach the Rocky Country, and find things they never expected.

Urazoe Kai had seen a lot in his short life. He had seen relatives die during the apocalypse, children murder each other over a can of food, babies left to die because no one knew how to care for them... all the evils humanity was capable of. But he had seen miracles too. He remembered when the Wanderer came from the north with a gathering of Ainu and rural Japanese children; and where they passed, crops sprang up and the old skills of hunting and fishing were taught to children who had known only metropolitan luxury. He remembered when a group of storytellers came together to share their histories so that no one would forget. He remembered the little priestess girl who seemed to shine with inner light and her words had been a balm upon the souls of those who had given up hope. Kai had seen the good and the bad, and he so loved humanity that he had willingly joined the people of the Rocky Country. Their leader wanted to build a better world than the one that died with the adults, and he had signed up the moment he could.

His employment led him everywhere. He often alternated between digging up information, recruiting likely candidates for their cause, or retrieving some item or another on the list of things they needed. Now, he and his latest recruit waited outside of Osaba to see if there was any truth to the rumors. As night fell, a small group of monks with hoods hiding their faces marched down an abandoned street of Hiroshima. Two of them carried a stretcher with a black sheet pulled over it to cover a body, while the rest formed a loose circle around the procession. They paused before him once he had given them a code word and allowed him to take a peek at the corpse's face.

Rising bile wasn't what Kai was used to, desensitized as he was to most of the things he had seen, but it was excusable in this case. He swallowed it down and stepped away quickly, thankful that he hadn't actually touched the corpse itself. He recognized those symptoms, they haunted his nightmares.

With a quick "thanks" to the monks for allowing him to look, he took his neophyte's hand and ran as fast as they could manage back to the rover. He had to send word to base. Had to let them know it was back.

At their pace, they arrived shortly at the copse of trees where they'd hidden his rover. Minami, the sweet young girl he'd hoped to bring back to base for his boss's approval, yanked hard on his wrist and forced him to stop.

"Look at the ground," she whispered urgently. "Fresh tracks that aren't ours."

This was all the discouragement he needed. Kai stepped back cautiously, ready to run if he had to, and Minami followed his example. They backed into what was really the last thing they needed to deal with: Ruki's posse.

One of them, a man who looked eerily like the Wanderer, stepped before them with a machine gun slung over his shoulder and a pleased grin on his face. "Howdy! What would a lovely couple like yourselves be doing with a perfectly functional military rover that's been recently modified with power tools and has a nearly full tank of gas?"

"We stole it," Kai offered quickly. He hoped that would be enough, but from the look on this man's face, it didn't seem likely.

"Now see, I'm afraid I just can't buy that. Ruki wants you in for questioning. Just play nice and give her what she wants, and we'll all be able to go home soon enough and pretend this never happened."

Before Kai could respond, the butt of a gun fell upon the back of his head and sent him tumbling into darkness.

.*.

There was a festive air throughout the school as Ruki's closest subjects came by, one by one, to bask adoringly in the electric light. She congratulated each of the would-be scientists and promised a reward in cheerleaders (or jocks, for those who swung that way), which was met with enthusiastic gratitude. The scientists always were the most loyal to her.

When the queen was called away by her second in command, Takeru took advantage of this absence to take a look around. It really was better off than most places, and he wouldn't be incredibly surprised if running water was next on the agenda. He nodded absently to the people he passed, paying more attention to the hallway layouts and exit routes than anything else. It was reflex born of the survival instinct: if he didn't know how to get away, he would be as good as dead. He wandered in this manner for almost half an hour before Ruki's second in command came for him.

In a manner that was radically different from his previous encounter with the second in command, Takeru was forcibly dragged to what had once been a gymnasium and unceremoniously tied up next to the Okinawan and a girl he didn't recognize. She might have been pretty once, but the fresh swelling of a new black eye, a broken lip, and what were probably a few broken teeth distracted from any beauty she may have had. The Okinawan wasn't faring that much better. As the thugs secured his ropes, Takeru mentally kicked himself a few times. He really should have listened to his instincts.

Ruki strode back and forth before them, casually tapping a revolver against the palm of her free hand in perfect time to the clapping of her boots on wooden beams. "So, here's where things stand. Hirokazu says he saw this man," she paused and pointed her gun's muzzle at the Okinawan, "talking to this man." Now it was aimed at Takeru. "These two," and the gun wavered between the Okinawan and the girl, "had a recently modified rover with gasoline, an operational radio, and simply refuse to tell me where they came from. I'll have you people know that I will do _anything_ to protect my people. Tell me where the Rocky Country is."

Takeru could offer nothing more than bewildered silence. Where had he heard that before? Why was it so important that the queen felt the need to beat it out of the two next to him?

"You're crazy," the Okinawan muttered. "Even if it did exist, what does _he_ have to do with anything? We just talked. That's _it._ "

The pacing stopped and the queen strode near to stare down her nose at the Okinawan. "I know spies and secret agents when I see them. I also know how they recruit people to their cause. Everything Hirokazu has told me about your little meeting with Blondie there just reeks of a recruitment campaign. That's why he's here. Now, as for being crazy..." Ruki squatted down and gave the Okinawan a predatory grin. "Girls had it the worst after the mass deaths, you know. You boys never realize exactly when puberty hits, but we knew. We had to live with the fear each and every night that our first period would come with our deaths. How were we supposed to know that the plague killed so fast that it left no survivors to pass it on to the rest of us? So, yes, maybe I am a little crazy. Fearing your own biological functions for a while will do that. Who isn't?"

After giving the Okinawan a pat on the head, Ruki stepped back to address one of her underlings. What she told the man, Takeru couldn't tell, but he soon found out when the man yanked the girl away from them and dragged her outside. The Okinawan shouted out after her and renewed struggles against the bonds, increasing intensity until a gunshot rang out and silenced him.

Once upon a time, Takeru would have been stunned by the brutality. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have been able to fathom why anyone would do such a thing. But then, once upon a time, his parents had still been with him. Now all he could muster was disgust at the senseless act and anger that he couldn't do anything about it.

"Now then," Ruki said as she turned back to them. "I want you to think hard about this while I'm out, and when I come back, I expect an answer or someone else is going to end up dead. Understand?"

The prisoners could only glare furiously after her as she stalked away with her second in command and the executor close behind. Under the watchful eyes of the guards that were left behind, the Okinawan shifted closer and whispered to Takeru.

"I'm Kai. Sorry about getting you involved, I didn't think she was that good at picking out people like me."

Takeru gave a soft grunt of annoyance in response. An apology, while nice, wouldn't get them out of here. "Why is she so intent on finding this place? Did you tell her it's only a rumor?"

"I tried." Kai's voice took on a tone of resignation. "She didn't buy it."

"Well, why the hell not?"

"Because it exists."

.*.

Daisuke had had a lot of weird traveling companions and drinking buddies during his travels, but he doubted any of them could hold a candle up to this guy. When asked about who he was, the man kept saying that he was "Time, unlimited" and returned to winding a watch that didn't work. When asked about the watch, the man said that it would work again when the world was ready to move on. And when asked about that weird manner of speech he had, the man said that God spoke to him in his head. Okay, then. He was with a lunatic.

What was particularly eerie about his companion, though, was that when he pulled that "God says" crap, something inside him was all too willing to obey. It was creepy and rather freaked him out, but there was little alternative but to either dismiss the man or accept this, well, whatever it was.

As he dug into his inner pocket for his bag of konpeito, he reflected on the circumstances leading up to what he was about to do now. The crazy man said that "God says Hope is trapped and needs the aid of Friendship and Courage to break free," and then disappeared the moment he turned his head. But what was really, incredibly freaky was that the crazy man left a bon-bon where he had once sat. Bon-bon. Genuine, fresh chocolate. No one made that anymore and hadn't since the Apocalypse came. He wasn't a believer in that divine intervention crap, but when he opened the bon-bon's wrapper and read "gym" written in katakana on it, he had to wonder.

At the very least, he had to do something as a payback for the first real chocolate he had in years. If it was a rescue mission the crazy man wanted, so be it.

Daisuke was an entertainer at heart, and at some moments it felt like he could live off the attention of an audience. He made a big show of pulling out his konpeito stash, opening the bag, and slipping a star-shaped candy into his mouth. Just in case he hadn't caught the attention of everyone in the bar, he threw in a few moans of contentment for good measure. Much to his amusement, the closest barflies to him stared at his bag of candy with watering mouths. He could swear he saw a trail of drool drop from someone's chin to the right.

"Where'd you get that," a particularly scrawny young man asked before licking his lips.

"Can't say. They told me not to."

A fluffy-haired woman that smelled faintly of a pigpen edged towards him. "Who told you not to?" Okay, scratch that "faintly." Now that she was closer, Daisuke was pretty damn sure she made her living by raising pigs.

"It fell off a truck, okay?" While he wasn't normally a good liar, Daisuke figured he sounded more convincing if he spun it like a story. "Some supply truck headed for that school nearby, probably from the government."

"But the government is dead," replied one of the men near the back. Another man, one with half his teeth missing, took on the look of a conspiracy theorist. "Hey, if people are coming back from the dead in Tokyo, does that mean the government is coming back too? Maybe the Emperor?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He's lying."

"Hey," said the woman who smelled like pigs, "I saw a truck driving up to the school. When I asked, they told me to mind my own business. I think Ruki's been hoarding goods that the government meant for us and plans to leave when she has it all."

"Preposterous," shouted the man who said the government was dead. "There's no evidence. Even if there was, I value my hide too much to take on the queen."

The barkeeper, a rather pretty blonde woman, leaned over the bar with her arms crossed to support her weight. "There was a guy here earlier. I think he was in the government. Had a real I.D. and everything. He said he was scooping things out, making sure we got our share."

The other woman's eyes went wide at that. "It must've been that man Hirokazu escorted to the school. Ruki probably wants it kept quiet."

That did it. Even dissenters like the man in the back were enraged. After all, they loved and trusted their queen, and now they thought she betrayed them. With a roar that echoed in the bar, a riot came to life.

Thankful, Daisuke turned on the stool and smiled at the barkeeper. "Thanks for the help, miss..?"

"Izumi." The barkeeper gave him a wink and put away a washrag and shot glass she had been toying with during his attempt to create an angry mob. "No problem! I've been thinking of leaving town anyway."

.*.

Takeru could do little more than stare blankly at the Okinawan. _That_ certainly hadn't been what he was expecting, but then, what was? He hadn't expected to be in this predicament either. And then it struck him.

"Kai, this Rocky Country, does it go by other names," he asked with poorly veiled desperation lacing his voice. When Kai nodded, Takeru pushed on. "Is one of them Amaterasu's Cave?"

The Okinawan stared back at him, bewildered. "No, but how do you know of Ama-"

It was at that moment that they heard the angry cries of what sounded like rioters.

.*.

Ruki scrambled out of her chair when she heard what sounded like roaring waves beyond the school's fences. When her second in command ran to a stop at her door, she demanded an explanation.

"An angry mob," Hirokazu offered between shallow gasps for air. He was not allowed reprieve, for Ruki soon grabbed her revolver and ran to the entrance of the school with him in tow. What greeted her was a sight that would baffle her for years to come.

"You've been robbing us," the rioters chanted. "Give us what's ours! Stop lying to us!"

Unbeknownst to the queen of Osaba, her beloved scientists in their fourth floor lab quibbled over being unable to see what was going on. They didn't like not knowing, they didn't like unsolved puzzles. Naturally, one of them had a brilliant idea.

Far below, Ruki was trying to reason with the people she had tried for so long to protect. She felt hurt and betrayed by this uprising, but refused to give in to the urge to lash out for the moment. "What is it you _want_?! Haven't I protected you from raiders? Haven't I always been looking out for your best interests? If it wasn't for me, you would all be dead!"

"You have it all, don't you," screamed a woman with fluffy hair. "Food, gas, electricity! If you really cared, you'd share!"

Ruki snapped. How _dare_ they make assumptions! "Don't be stupid! I told you all before, we don't have any gas or electricity!"

Oblivious to the events unfolding below, one of the scientists gave a pleased hum over his ingenuity and made last-minute adjustments to the wires connected to his steam turbine prototype before pulling the switch. Now they'd be able to figure out what was going on!

The rioters and Ruki's own personal guard fell silent as the floodlights turned on for the first time in fifteen years. With the distinct feeling of her blood running cold at this new development, Ruki turned horrified eyes upon her rebellious people. The electric light gave new life to their protests and new energy to their efforts, and they surged past the fence.

.*.

"Daisuke, I don't know how you managed it, but that was impressive," Takeru managed to get out before slipping into Kai's rover. When the guards had gone to investigate the riot, Daisuke sneaked into the school's gymnasium and cut the ropes binding Takeru and Kai. Although Kai was apparently sporting a sprained ankle, Daisuke and Takeru made good time with Kai supported between them.

They had taken out the guards watching the rover and Kai took control the moment he was in the driver's seat. As they began to drive away, one of the guards woke up to fire off a few shots, but it seemed as if nothing more was damaged but the sides of the rover.

.*.

Once the rebellion had been quelled and Ruki had to explain that her scientists were testing the prototype for bugs before wanting to release future models to the rest of the town, she retreated to her office to lick her wounds. And, to add insult to injury, Hirokazu found her guards knocked out in the gymnasium and the ropes cut with the prisoners missing.

A small part of Ruki, the little girl who had to bury her grandmother, wanted to cry in frustration. Her only solid links to the Rocky Country were gone with the rover. The Rocky Country was supposed to be the Promised Land, and the evidence that the Okinawan had unwittingly given her had only verified its existence. Gas, old world technology, a key card she had found in the Okinawan's pocket and had been stupid enough to leave on a table when she left, it all sang of a place that still had the comforts of the old world. Only the Rocky Country was said to have those comforts, and now her chance to find its location was gone.

Hirokazu hovered close by, clearly concerned but unwilling to show it for fear of appearing weak. It was a good idea, for at the moment she was ready to tear into anyone who showed weakness. He was a good second in command, even if he had been an obnoxious twerp as a kid. Not what she was interested in as a mate, but then no one ever had been.

She had one last option and prayed something would come of it. With that in mind, she ground her teeth and swallowed her pride. "Hirokazu, I want you to pass on the word that I will offer food in exchange for any information as to those agents' whereabouts. If that's not good enough, I want the informant to come to me personally and take whatever it is they want from my office. Got that?"

Her ever-loyal second in command gave a brief nod and stepped outside to spread the news.

.*.

After making a quick stop to pick up Patamon, whose very existence didn't seem to surprise Kai in the least, they drove deep into the night. According to Kai, the Rocky Country had digimon aplenty; they were, however, limited in that many of the digimon still hadn't found their partners within the base itself. Patamon had been worried sick over Takeru but was glad that his partner was okay, and then flopped onto Takeru's dark green cap to hum contentedly. When Kai didn't seem to want to talk, Daisuke turned to Takeru instead.

"Hey, since we're both looking for something, I was thinking," Daisuke began, then gave a short laugh when he noticed the feigned disbelief on Takeru's face. "Yeah, I know, what's the world coming to, right?"

"Right. But go on."

A more serious expression crossed Daisuke's face. "Well, I think we should look together. You watch my back, I watch yours, and we help each other out of scrapes like the one we left. Make sense?"

Takeru frowned slightly. He had been alone, watched out for himself, for so long that he really didn't know if he could handle having to look out for someone else that wasn't Yamato or Patamon. Committing himself to watch out for a travel companion for an unknown amount of time would be a huge change, and he just didn't handle that kind of change well. But he didn't want to let Daisuke down by saying "no" outright, so instead he said he'd think about it.

Despite the disappointment visible in his eyes, Daisuke nodded and gave a slight smile. "That's okay. Take your time."

It was at this moment that Kai gave what sounded to be a liquid cough and slumped forward on the wheel. Alarmed, Takeru kicked Kai's motionless foot away and slammed on the brakes. They came to an abrupt stop in the middle of a derelict highway and Daisuke hurried out of the passenger's side to run to the driver's side to open the door and figure out what the hell was going on.

When they finally got Kai pulled out of the rover and laid out onto his back, they noticed now what they had overlooked before. One of those bullets _had_ connected and had, at a side angle, penetrated both lower lungs. Without a hospital and old world surgery, Kai would drown in his own blood.

Daisuke wanted to panic, and most likely would have if Kai had not struggled to get something out of his pocket. The Okinawan retrieved a plastic card from an inner pocket and held it out with trembling fingers to Takeru.

"Please... take the rover," he coughed up some blood before going on. "Take it back to Iwakuni Base. Map in h-hidden compartment under rover. Card lets you in. Tell them... It's back."

Takeru glanced frantically at Daisuke, whose only aid was a shrug, and suppressed the urge to shake Kai. Patamon, feeling his distress, gripped hard at his cap and inadvertently pulled on the hair under it. Takeru didn't pay attention to this, for if "it" was what he suspected, there were far greater things to worry about. "What's back? What do you mean?"

It looked like Kai was going to answer, it really did. He opened his mouth, only to cough out some more blood, and slumped back on the ground. Dead. Urazoe Kai, who loved both the good and the bad that came with life, was no more.

Takeru and Daisuke buried him at dawn, while Patamon helped by gathering flowers for the grave. They hadn't known him long, but it felt as if the world had lost something important.

.*.

Despite the rather comical attempts in figuring out how to drive later that morning, there was a tangible gloom between Daisuke and Takeru. Patamon did his best to alleviate it by telling Daisuke tales of the Digital World, but even his normally cheerful attitude was subdued. When he had said everything he could about his homeland, he curled up in the space between the two humans and nuzzled each in reassurance. It'll all be okay, he was certain of it.

Shortly after Patamon had exhausted his tales of a world that probably died when all the computers did, Daisuke spoke up in an attempt to get another conversation going.

"Say, Takeru? Do you have any siblings?"

Takeru would have turned to glance curiously at Daisuke, but learned earlier that day that taking his eyes off the road was a really bad idea while he was the one driving. At least he hadn't crashed into anything in the last few hours. "An older brother. Why?"

"Older siblings are a pain, aren't they," Daisuke murmured, his gaze somewhat distant. "Bossy, pushy..."

A brief smile crossed Takeru's face at that. "Think they know everything, always demand the most attention, selfish..."

"... Annoying as hell. But you gotta love 'em," the other man finished off.

"Yeah." Takeru's voice was soft when he said that, and a familiar ache settled into his chest. He missed his own brother, but at least he knew how to find Yamato. The lines of fans were usually a kilometer long when Yamato was holding a concert. "How'd you lose track of Jun?"

"Well, before they died, our parents told Jun to take care of me. She dragged me everywhere. Then, I'm not sure what exactly happened. One minute I was asleep in a house we claimed for ourselves, and the next I found myself in a wagon headed out of town. The driver said that raiders had set the place on fire and Jun went back to fight it." Daisuke's voice, strained as it was with the effort of keeping from showing too much emotion, lightened a bit with affection for the memory of his sister. "She was always stubborn, y'know? You couldn't get her to budge when it came to defending something. But when I went back, she wasn't there."

"We'll find her, Daisuke," Patamon stated as if it were a certainty. "Right, Takeru?"

Takeru gave a brief nod. "Right. No harm in trying."

There were times when Daisuke was pretty sure he had it good. This was one of those times. "Oh, hey, what about your brother?"

"He's like a peacock, only hard to find if you're blind." Takeru grinned at the thought of Yamato dressed like a peacock. Considering his brother's increasingly bizarre taste in stage outfits, it would probably be a step up from the norm. "I just have to look out for the kilometer-long line of fans that follow him to every concert."

"Musician? That's pretty cool. What's his group called?"

Damn his inability to drive while looking away, he really wanted to look at Daisuke's face when he said it. "The Teenage Wolves."

Daisuke could do little more than stare in astonishment. His sister attended every concert she could when they were still together, had probably given up more trade items for a ticket than was healthy just to attend. "You're Yamato's brother! Jun used to have a big crush on him!"

"She and every other hormonal fan. Yeah, I know." Takeru scrunched up his nose at that. The fans were what annoyed him most about having to follow Yamato around. "She got over it, I hope?"

"Yeah. Just a teenage crush thing, y'know? The type that comes and goes. Dunno who'd she be after now, though." Daisuke figured now would be a good time to switch topics, since Takeru looked none too pleased to discuss his brother's fame. That was understandable. After all, who wanted to live in someone else's shadow? "So, uh, what do you think we'll find there?"

"Iwakuni Base? I don't know. Look at the map?"

There was a faint rustling as Daisuke pulled out the map they had found wedged under the engine and opened it. He hadn't looked at it earlier and it took him awhile to figure out where they were supposed to be on the map. Osaba wasn't on it, but Hiroshima was. All the post-Apocalypse settlements weren't marked on it, but the old world cities were. It was vaguely reassuring. If Iwakuni Base was...

... It was...

"Takeru," Daisuke whispered. When he didn't get a response, he spoke louder. "Hey Takeru, did you notice this? The kanji for Iwakuni?"

"Sorry, they weren't in the vocabulary lists when I was in school. What about them?"

"Iwa, rocky; kuni, country. It's the Rocky Country you said Ruki wanted to get her hands on."

The driver actually looked sheepish for the moment. "Well, go figure. And here I was just driving to the dot with the red circle."

"We're on track, at least," Daisuke offered as reassurance. "So, whatcha think?"

Takeru hummed in thought for a moment before he responded. "Sounds like an old U.S. base. That treaty from World War II said Japan couldn't have a military, so all we had was a self-defense force with the aid of the Americans. I think there was word going around that the U.S. planned to turn the bases over to Japan permanently a few years after the new millennium. But then the Apocalypse came..."

"And the bases now belong to whoever squats on them, right?" It made sense! That was how Daisuke and Jun claimed their house, at least until the raiders came and burned it.

"New world order: finders keepers. Kai said they were looking to set things right again, so there probably isn't a madman squatting on Iwakuni."

With an emphatic nod, Daisuke folded up the map and decided to entertain Patamon. Digimon were fun to be around. Maybe someday he'd have one of his own. It'd be really cool if he did. What would it be?

.*.

Sunset found them at what had once been a U.S. Marine Corps base, but had since been abandoned. There was no sign of life and no sign that the place had been occupied for over a decade. They refused to be discouraged. Takeru, who spent a good deal of his time hunting for game to trade into town, was the first to find it: a well-hidden trail in the distance. They drove up to it and stopped to clear away the foliage. Beyond was a worn path that led to a fenced-in cliff.

The cliff, with its massive metal doors, was the true Iwakuni Base. It looked downright impenetrable, and the chain that locked the fence was old and rusted. However, when Daisuke gave a sigh of defeat, Patamon pointed out the lock that had been hidden in the rusted coils. It was as shiny and new as it must have been the day it was forged.

They rushed back to the rover and used it to break past the fence. With that out of the way, the trio got out again to figure out how they'd get past the doors. There weren't any handles, knocker, or doorbell. This too was resolved when Takeru found a device designed exclusively to read key cards. Once Takeru slashed the card through the device, there was a great groaning within the cliff as those metal doors swung inwards to reveal pitch-blackness.

"You know, I'm starting to think this wasn't such a great idea," Takeru muttered as he wiped away a bead of cold sweat. He never did like darkness much, in any form.

Daisuke clapped him on the shoulder on the way back to the rover. "Turn on the headlights and we'll be okay."

Takeru was tempted to just leave the rover and head back to the wilderness, where it was never really dark so long as there were stars in the sky. Patamon, however, had a different idea entirely.

"Takeru, we gotta go in! There are other digimon in there!"

He blinked up at his partner, who hovered in the air with big blue eyes focused on the darkness. Patamon had never really said so, but he was worried about the Digital World. If there were other digimon within the base, they might know what happened to it. Well then, Takeru never could deny his partner. He turned back to the rover and slipped into the driver's seat again. With a turn of the ignition and a foot on the accelerator, they went in.

With only the headlights to light their way, it felt as if they were driving into the heart of the Earth itself. They didn't know how long they had driven or how far, but they eventually came to a stop when the headlights revealed the wall they were driving up to. Okay, well, time to get out again.

Then, to their utmost astonishment, someone hit the lights and the three nomads found themselves staring at over two dozen men and women dressed in military fatigues. Men and women with semi-automatic rifles pointed at them. There was no other option but to do as their leader said. Just surrender.

.*.

Someone had watched too many cop movies, Takeru thought dourly as he turned his eyes from the hot, nearly blinding interrogation lamp. He was tied up, Daisuke was tied up, and Patamon was completely absent. Though he wondered where his partner had been taken, the lamp was too distracting. Too uncomfortable. He couldn't pick out much beyond the light, but what he could make out were a dozen soldiers standing at ease against the whitewash walls and a man in black pacing behind the glare of the lamp. A man in black with mirrored shades to hide any semblance of humanity. Just perfect. Other than the outfit and shades, Takeru couldn't really make out any other features.

"I know you killed Urazoe Kai. Just confess," the man in black stated in an all-too-even tone of voice. Takeru was getting very tired of these interrogations. Maybe he should just stick to hunting.

"Hey man, we didn't do anything," Daisuke shouted. He struggled against his bonds, but they just wouldn't loosen. "What makes you think we did?!"

The man in black was not the least bit put off by Daisuke's fervor. "Bullet holes on the sides of the rover and blood on the driver's side reveal signs of a struggle-"

"That's because we were trying to drive _away_ from the people who were trying to kill us!"

"I don't believe you. There is a clear motive." The man in black had the kind of quiet calm in his voice that Takeru suspected was just too calm and quiet to be human. And what was with that too-rhythmic clicking he kept hearing? It was enough to drive him mad. "The rover would fetch a very good price on the open market."

Daisuke struggled some more before responding again. "Dude, would we _be_ here if we were going to sell it."

"Listen," Takeru began, hoping a full account would convince the man in black. "We were escaping from Ruki's thugs, and he got shot during the escape attempt. Before he did, he told us to bring the rover here and pass on a message."

The clicking stopped as the man in black stopped pacing and leaned into the light. Now that Takeru could see more, he noticed rather spiky blue hair framing skin that hinted at a Chinese ancestry. "And what would that message be?"

"I'm only supposed to tell the one in charge." Takeru had to work hard to suppress a smirk at the almost-indecipherable frown of frustration on the man in black's face. "I'll only tell whoever's in charge."

Somewhere beyond the light, previously hidden from view by the man in black, another man came forth. This one was taller, with longer hair that seemed to hang around his face like a curtain. "My name is Ichijouji Ken, and I am 'in charge' of Iwakuni Base. Please forgive Jianliang, he sometimes takes his role as head of security a little too seriously."

The man in black, Jianliang, turned to Ken with an all-too-measured air. "I still do not believe them. My informant says that this Takeru will be trouble. My informant has yet to be proven wrong."

"Do you believe in me, Jen," Ken asked, in the sort of tone of voice that suggested that it was something that really didn't need to be asked.

For the first time since the nomads had seen Jianliang, he actually nearly flustered a bit. "Of course, but-"

"Kai's last radio contact said that he saw Takeru as a potential recruit. I trust Kai's judgment, he has never been wrong in the choices he made. Did he not recruit you as well?"

"Well yes, but anyone can make mistakes." Jianliang's teeth actually seemed to be set on edge now. Takeru wondered what the hell he did to deserved this kind of blind distrust, but perhaps it was just paranoia. If Jianliang really was head of security, paranoia was probably par for the course. When Ken did nothing to counter the argument, Jianliang gave a slight nod and turned to walk out the door. "Very well then, I will leave them in your care."

Once Jianliang and his soldiers were gone, Ken slipped into the chair across the table and turned down the interrogation lamp. He gazed curiously at Takeru, then Daisuke, and back again. "Kai's report didn't mention a second, or a digimon. But, tell me, what was the message?"

"All he said was 'It's back,' but there was nothing else." Takeru noticed, with some curiosity, that Ken's eyes widened in surprise and what might have been horror before the expression was quickly hidden. "Is 'it' what we think it is?"

Instead of answering the question, Ken called out to someone beyond the door. "Please send someone to escort these two and their digimon around base and give them something to eat, please." With that, Ken turned an apologetic eye to the two and bowed slightly. "I'm sorry for running off, but I need to call an emergency council meeting. Our traditional welcome girl will be along shortly."

With that, Ken ran out the door.

Daisuke and Takeru exchanged looks of disbelief at what they had gotten themselves into, and worry over what the panic over "it" implied. And, to add insult to injury, they were still tied up.

Someone did come along shortly, a soldier who said he was told to release them and escort them to the cafeteria. Patamon joined them, though he had been escorted by a kiwimon. The welcome girl was running late. Daisuke soon pushed the event out of his mind once they grabbed trays of food and settled down to eat, Patamon was content to chow down, but Takeru was still worried about "it."

A young woman and a penmon soon joined them, though her face was hidden behind a clipboard. "Hello, welcome to Iwakuni Base, I will be your guide, yadda yadda, feel free to ask-"

"Jun!"

The clipboard dropped abruptly, revealing a fairly pretty girl with untamable brown hair and astonished brown eyes. She stared in surprise at her brother, then squealed in delight and threw her arms around his neck in a lopsided hug. It was quickly returned by an equally exuberant Daisuke.

Jun practically bounced with glee before her brother made her sit down next to him. Penmon, who looked to be her digimon partner, hopped onto the bench next to her and watched in amusement. "Oh my god, Daisuke! I kept asking the agents for information about you, but they were never able to track you down! How have you been doing?"

"Swell! Except for the raiders and stuff, but that's life, y'know? How about you? How'd you get here?"

"Took a wrong turn on the way to Albuquerque," Jun offered with a grin. "Really, though, Kai recruited me after the raid. I did my stint as an agent, but that got boring after awhile. So, here we are!

"And, since I'm neglecting my job, here's the quickie version: A bunch of government people or those well-connected came here in an attempt to escape the Apocalypse. Thought they'd weather it out. I don't know how it got in, but it did. One of the kids that had been taken here was this child genius, Ichijouji Osamu. When the adults died, he took command and organized everything. A council, training regimes for future soldiers, stuff like that. I don't know exactly what happened, but some say the Wanderer from the North came to spirit Osamu away to the outside world. So, Osamu disappeared and it's said that whatever killed Osamu made the Wanderer go mad. Ken was elected to power soon afterwards, and he's doing his best to carry out his brother's vision. Got all that?"

After Takeru and Daisuke nodded, Jun continued. "Ken's trying really hard, I think. He wants to bring order back into the world and make things better, the way his brother intended."

All very nice, of course, but to Takeru, intent wasn't the same as action. "You guys are sitting on a goldmine here. I saw a hydroponics garden on the way from the interrogation room. You people have food, electricity, arms, vehicles... things the rest of the world doesn't have. Why aren't you sharing? Why don't you let the outside world know you're here?"

Jun looked befuddled for a moment, but it soon dawned on her that this was in fact a legitimate question. "Well, think about it. The moment the outside world finds out where we are, what do you think would happen? They'd invade, pillage everything we have, and burn the rest."

"She does have a point, y'know." Daisuke seemed to feel the need to emphasize his sister's words. Takeru simply grunted his surrender and went back to his food.

.*.

After dinner, Jun and her penmon escorted them to Ken's command center. Along the way, Penmon answered Patamon's question about the state of the Digital World. While it had survived the Apocalypse on Earth, the loss of most of the world's computer systems ended up taking a heavy toll on the Digital World itself. Some digimon had been lucky and took refuge in the base, but others were not and had died with a good deal of the network. Because of limited resources, only the most trusted of Ken's agents were allowed to bond with digimon partners.

Penmon's story trailed off when they approached the door to Ken's command center and she joined Jun in wishing them good luck.

The leader of Iwakuni Base sat with his chin resting over laced fingers, his eyes were closed, and the slight frown on his face suggested that he was worrying about something or another. Takeru and Daisuke settled into chairs across the meeting table while Patamon plopped back onto Takeru's cap.

"Again, I apologize for the inhospitable welcome. Thank you for passing on Kai's message." Ken opened his eyes and looked away to dig under the table for something. It was soon pulled out and revealed to be a small journal. "Kai kept this in a hidden compartment on the rover. It is a journal detailing his travels and notes about what he found.

"I asked you here because I am in sore need of informants, and Kai's death is a heavy hit to us. He was one of the best we ever had. In exchange for this service, you are welcome to call this base home."

Daisuke and Takeru exchanged glances. Daisuke's was hopeful, and Takeru suspected that Daisuke wanted to stay here with Jun. Takeru's was more suspicious. He wondered what happened to him, why he was so suspicious of Ken's motives. He never did particularly like sneaking around, and being a spy wasn't on his list of desirable employments. Under Ken's watchful eye, he took the journal and flipped through it. Most of what was written down were names and places, but one stood out amongst the rest.

Nestled amidst a sea of other names was Amaterasu's Cave.

Startled, Takeru could only stare at the page until the shock passed. When it did, he shoved the journal under Ken's nose and pointed to the name. "What do you know of this place?"

Ken's eyes narrowed in what was probably annoyance at his rudeness, but let that pass. "I only know that Kai had intended to investigate any information on Amaterasu's Cave. If you wish to know the meaning of Kai's message, it is that he believes the virus is back. That place is on a list of locations related to Kai's search for verification about the virus. What I would like to ask of you two is this: whether or not the virus really is returning, and to follow Kai's journal to talk to his informers again. As Amaterasu's Cave is amongst those locations, I'm sure this job will serve you quite well, Takeru."

Takeru was tempted. Very tempted. This was the first solid lead to where his parents should be. However, there was one thing that still bugged him. "I'll agree, but only if I can use some of these resources to help other people."

"I will not put my base in danger," Ken ground out. "If you can find a way to do so without putting Iwakuni in danger, then yes, you are welcome to do so. However, do not expect me to send anyone to save you during your little crusade."

Daisuke gave a cheeky grin and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Apparently this was turning into a habit. "Nah, that's what I'm here for."

"And me," Patamon chirped happily. A mission, yay!

Ken gave the digimon a slight smile. "Well then, if we are agreed, I shall have my second in command assign quarters for you. However, I'm afraid that taking Daisuke to the digimon room will have to wait until the successful completion of your first mission. The details will be given to you in the morning."

While Takeru was sorely pressed not to roll his eyes at Ken's apparent attempt to twist the outcome as favorable for Ken and Iwakuni Base, he couldn't help but be a little bit hopeful that he just might find his parents after all.

.*.

The next day came with their first orders, and they were anxious enough to get right on it that the sight of Jianliang stalking around the deployment area was hardly depressing. That Jianliang expected them back within a week was no big deal, really. Before they went on their way, Jun came by to hug each of them and wished them luck. It looked to be a promising start.

As the rover drove off into the morning, a single transient watched their progress until he could no longer see them. He hummed an odd tune to himself before turning on his walkie-talkie and whispering into it. What he said was something only the recipient would ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Iwakuni Base does actually exist, the one here is a highly fictionalized version.


	3. Secret Keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a secret. Some are just bigger than others.

There were very few outsiders who knew of the location of Iwakuni Base, and even fewer who were trusted enough for the people of the base to form a partnership with them. Amongst these were the Ainu clans.

Once upon a time, the Ainu were approaching extinction as a race. These native peoples of Hokkaido and Sakhalin had been hunted and repressed, until the few clans left either lived in poverty in the few villages that remained, were raised without being aware of their original culture, or assumed Japanese identities and integrated with the invaders' population. Only through the concentrated efforts of activists during the mid-20th century were they able to maintain knowledge of their past. However, when the Apocalypse came, the Ainu, and the rural Japanese children who kept to their traditional modes of living, were the best equipped to survive it. Although the adults had died, many of the children did not starve or have to fight each other over food. When the rest of Japan was still squabbling over the remains of the old world, the Ainu appointed new chieftains and continued as they always had. They were content in their prosperity and isolation until the Wanderer came.

The Wanderer met their chieftains one day, fourteen years ago, to convince them to spread out and adopt any Japanese children who would join them. Some were wary, for they remembered the tales they were told of the racial purification hunts hundreds of years ago, but others agreed. Those who agreed sent representatives of their tribes to go with the Wanderer and teach the old ways to children too used to buying food from a store and expecting water from a tap. Along the way, they adopted children who had the willingness to live as them and take on their customs.

Kanbara Takuya was one such child. He remembered too well the stress of having to scavenge from stores long since pillaged or fight with other kids just to feed himself and his brother. He was familiar with the gnawing ache in his stomach that came from entire days of starvation. When the Wanderer came by town, he and his brother were so weak that a scout from the procession called for a halt to pick them up. Once they had fed him and Shinya, they were offered a place in the group so long as they were willing to adopt the customs. It hadn't taken much convincing. A new life, with the promise of teaching skills to help him become self-sufficient, and a hierarchy he could agree with were well worth it. Sure, his ceremonial clothes weren't what he had been used to as a child, but they were hand-crafted and not stolen from stores or dead adults. He had even hunted down the materials to make them. He loved his new people, and they supported him and Shinya.

Now he and the Wanderer waited outside the base to be acknowledged. That his clan trusted him enough to renew their treaty with Iwakuni Base was a great honor. He just hoped he wouldn't disappoint them. The Wanderer was with him only to visit an old friend and wouldn't oversee the process. The enormous metal doors opened soon enough to let them in.

They walked into a darkness lit ever so often by electric bulbs, and along the way, a man in black joined them. The man in black and the Wanderer soon fell behind him, and when he paused, the Wanderer told him to go on without them. Someone else would meet with him, and the Wanderer would meet him outside the next morning. So he continued, not particularly surprised when the Wanderer and the man in black seemed to disappear behind him. The Wanderer did that a lot.

Towards the end of the tunnel, a young woman with her red hair in a bun stood straight and tall against a flood of light. She gave him a deep traditional Japanese bow. He returned it with the awkwardness of long years without practice.

"Are you of the Shichup clan?"

"Yeah. Takuya at your service." He grinned at that, and she relaxed her stance enough to smile back. It did feel kinda silly to be so formal. "I'm here to discuss the terms of our treaty and see if we can renew it. I was told to see Mr. Ichijouji."

The smile vanished on the woman's face, but she maintained a rather kindly countenance. "He's not available at the moment, but you can talk to me. I am his second in command, Takenouchi Sora. Usually what happens is that people come to me and I drag him out of hiding when he needs to sign something."

"Oh, okay." Well, go figure. Bureaucracy was the same everywhere, after all.

"But please, follow me." With that, Sora turned and led the way to what Takuya suspected was a general-use meeting room.

.*.

Secrets haunted the hidden corridors of Iwakuni Base. The few who were privy to them did not talk of them. They simply passed by each other with knowing looks and never asked.

Li Jianliang was amongst these secret-keepers. He was successful in his job because he knew every hidden room, corridor, and anything that could be used as an entry or exit-way. In finding these places, he discovered things that could have Ken dethroned and himself placed in power. However, he did not act on this information, content as he was with his own position. As much as he disagreed with Ken's tactics compared to Osamu's, he had a duty to protect the base and he would stick to it. The base was the world's greatest protection for his little sister, after all.

Besides, he had his own secrets. One of those secrets sat across from him in the sanctity of his private quarters. This secret had long since fallen out of favor with Ken, but was too useful for the protection of the base to be dismissed outright. Even without the usefulness of a double agent, this secret was a close friend.

"What, no coffee," his informant asked with a false pout.

With a shake of his head, he set a small shot of brandy before his friend. "I think you should sleep after this. Are you sure about what you said?"

"Yes."

"Then it shall come to pass?"

"In time, yes."

Iwakuni Base's head of security closed his eyes against the despair that threatened to loom over him. If it was as he suspected, his nice and orderly world-within-a-world would be turned upside down by the folly of outsiders. "What can I do to slow the process?"

The older man looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He was right about his friend's exhaustion. The moment he would have to leave, he'd order his friend to go collapse on his bed and get a full eight hours of sleep. "Keep Ken in the dark."

"I won't betray him."

"You don't have to," the older man stated. "Just keep him from finding out. My boss will handle the rest, and I'll try to distract the other factor."

"Very well. Go ahead and get some sleep, okay? You don't look well."

The double agent gave him a long, examining look over the rim of his shot glass. "Does Terriermon know?"

"Yes, but I've convinced him that it was a topic not worth pursuing. You're my little secret."

His secret had a mysterious half-smile on his face before downing the brandy in one gulp. The man returned the shot glass to the table and continued. "Secrets have a way of getting out."

"Then I shall do my best to keep this one from getting out before the world is ready." Jianliang decided to pour another shot of brandy for his friend. With all the running around the man did, it was well deserved.

"Jen," the man asked, though his attention was on his drink instead of Jianliang. "Could you stay and drink with me? Just for a bit?"

"I have to clean up after Ken again in a few minutes," he chided his friend. "And to do that, I need clarity."

"Then, could you stay until you have to go?"

Jianliang knew things that could chill one's blood, he knew things that could set himself up as a king for life. But what he knew was nothing compared to the guilt his friend carried. His friend had world-shattering secrets that could not be told, not until the time was right. If ever he felt helpless, it was nothing compared to what his friend and informant was going through. With one last sigh, he pulled up a chair and poured himself some brandy. Ken would just have to clean up after himself this time.

.*.

Ever since the beginning, Ichijouji Ken had harbored darkness. At times it felt as if it was just an unpleasant side of him, one to be kept hidden under his masks and released in private. At other times, it was comforting in its own way. He could hide and plot in the darkness. Secrets could be buried there.

As he passed into the sealed-off section of the base, he reflected upon the end of the old world. Somehow a friend of his father named Oikawa had gotten the family signed on with the refugees. Computer programmers would be needed, they said, just as much as the other scientists and government officials. They were going to wait out the mass death and come out of hiding when there were no more carriers of the virus. It would have been the perfect plan.

He remembered the envoy of men escorting a young woman in a biosuit through the base. When everyone stepped as far away as they could from the woman, he had asked his brother what the procession was. "It's a Patient Zero. Typhoid Mary," Osamu said in that distant tone of voice that suggested he was working out some kind of problem in his head again, "one of the first known carriers of the virus. She has an immunity, so it hasn't killed her yet. They want to study her. They'll probably want to see if they can derive a vaccine."

"But, isn't it dangerous to have her here," he queried, unconsciously squeezing his brother's hand in mounting worry. His brother squeezed back.

"So long as she's kept in isolation, we should be fine." He remembered that Osamu looked down to meet his eyes then and gave him a vaguely reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Ken. This is the safest place in Japan."

Safety, he had come to learn, sometimes came at too high a price. Patient Zero had been in isolation for months since then, and Ken had almost forgotten about her. In the last few weeks before everyone had died in the world outside, Osamu became increasingly preoccupied with the reports. The scientists in the base thought his brother was just so darling in his pursuit for information on the virus. They gave his brother every bit of data they managed to gather about the virus and its behaviors, and fed the ravenous hunger that was Osamu's curiosity. No one thought much about it.

Then the riots and looting came to the cities as more and more people started dying. At one point, Osamu had hacked into the base's computers and managed to connect his laptop to the video feed outside. While Ken was playing with his best friend's Gameboy, Osamu was transfixed to the screen. He remembered looking up once to try and figure out what was so fascinating about the screen and soon regretted it. His brother looked slightly ill as he watched the death throes of one of the mothers who had gotten out to retrieve some memento and thought she could get back in. "I need to watch this," Osamu said when he whined that they should look away, "I need to see what this thing does. I can't fight it if those idiot pathologists keep sanitizing things for me."

Sickened by the view, Ken opted to return his game instead. Legend of Zelda, he recalled. It was a welcome distraction. When night came, Osamu was still staring at his computer screen and Ken didn't ask. He simply curled up in the bunk they shared and tried to chase the images of death away. He wasn't sure what time it had been when he was awoken by Osamu's cursing, but he was soon pulled out of bed and told to stay there, and if their parents asked where Osamu was, his brother was trying to stop _it_ from getting in. He just nodded and went back to bed.

The day after that, Osamu kept fluctuating between pure rage and depression. The few times Ken felt sure Osamu wasn't going to lash out at him, he asked what happened. Someone had gotten out of the base in a biohazard suit to loot, and then had sneaked back in through a hidden passageway that Osamu had been watching at the time. This would have been perfectly fine, except that Osamu noticed a hole torn into the suit's finger when he investigated it later. His brother suspected that the looter had stolen something, perhaps an earring or brooch, that punctured the suit. None of the adults listened to him.

They should have listened. If they had, they'd be here now. But the dying began again, despite Osamu's warnings, and within a few weeks there were no adults left alive in the base. As the least panicky and most intelligent of the children there, Osamu was quickly obeyed. The first orders were to gather up the bodies and take them outside to be burned. Since then, Osamu assumed the role of Caesar and worked to rebuild the old world within the tenuous safety of the base. Ken had thought, after the adults died, that his brother would give up his personal obsession with the virus. He was eventually proven wrong.

When things started settling down and Ken should have seen his brother more often, Osamu kept disappearing at certain times. He received no satisfactory answer when he asked about those disappearances, then decided to figure it out himself.

Now Ken, elected leader of Iwakuni Base, locked the last door behind him. Years ago, he had followed Osamu to this same room to discover his brother's terrible secret. Now that secret belonged to him. He took a moment to carefully set the tray of food and a glass of water onto the conveyor belt that would pass it into a biohazard isolation chamber, then took his usual seat before the glass that separated him from this secret.

She gazed back at him with violet eyes he could never really read. She had always been very beautiful, even with the streaks of white in her hair and the lines starting to show up on her face. "Good morning, Little Prince."

"Good morning, Rumiko."

.*.

"So, remind me where we're going again," Takeru asked of his travel companions. He had driven for hours and still hadn't found the camp mentioned in Kai's journal. According to it, the camp was really a cluster of broken-down train cars refurbished as homes. _That_ he could understand; after all, not a lot of people wanted to stay in houses anymore.

"Amaterasu's Cave, by way of Shangri-La. But first we need to find Xanandu, with an artifact we have to pick up from El Dorado," Daisuke said. His voice had that feigned innocence tone again. "Should be no problem."

Takeru would have palmed his face in frustrations, but he still wasn't too good at this driving thing. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

With a sidelong glance at Takeru, Daisuke decided that it was better to stop putting his foot in his mouth for now and returned his attention to the map. "Sorry. The map says the camp should be around here, but-" He was cut off when Takeru turned sharply to the left and veered off the asphalt. A glance back revealed an idiot in white-painted patchwork armor and a _cape_ standing right in the middle of the road.

Patamon fluttered out of the rover in alarm, and Daisuke was ready to curse when the rover's haphazard progress into the woods was stopped by a tree. The abrupt stop and inertia forced his forehead to smack hard against the dashboard.

.*.

Daisuke woke up in what was probably one of the weirdest homes he'd ever seen. It had been one of the cars of a train at one point, but most of the seats had since been taken out and foldable tables, chairs and a small futon was set in their places. Well, it was probably better than that teepee made up of discarded cans he saw once. That one was definitely the weirdest. And why did it feel like someone had a jackhammer inside his skull that was attempting to get out?

"I'm sorry about that. Please forgive my friend, he's in his own little world," a woman said from behind a beaded curtain. She soon emerged with a bowl of soup. Her dirty-blonde hair was in pigtails that almost no one wore anymore. "Least I can do is offer some food, right? It's mostly green onions, shiitake mushrooms, fish chips, and water, but it's all I can offer."

Not one to turn down such hospitality, Daisuke accepted the bowl with a grateful smile. "Thanks, ma'am."

"Please, call me Ayaka."

With a cheerful nod, Daisuke started drinking down the soup, which was really more of a broth. It was actually pretty good. Once he was finished, Ayaka took the bowl from his hands and returned to the space beyond the curtain.

"Oh, hey, Ayaka? There was another guy with me. Have you seen him?"

Ayaka poked her head out from behind the curtain to respond to him. "Oh, he's outside. Said he wanted to talk to Takato while they went to fix that truck of yours." Then she returned to what sounded like she was washing the bowl in buckets. "Why, I don't know."

Takato, Takato... Why did that name sound familiar? Oh, right, it was one of the names in Kai's journal. Matsuda Takato. "We're following the trail of a friend of ours, and Takato was one of the people he talked to. That's why we're here."

"You won't get much out of him," Ayaka stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Nothing useful, anyway."

"Why's that?"

With a slight frown, the young woman unfolded a chair to sit on and looked solemnly at him. "Takato had always been a strange kid, even when we were in school together. Had his head in the clouds so often that our teacher would often rebuke him and send him out into the hallway during class because he wasn't paying attention. After the mass deaths, well... He lost it."

Daisuke wasn't surprised at that. Insanity tended to be part of the norm after the Apocalypse. "Most people did. There wasn't really much option, y'know? Some of us just survived from day to day, some of us killed ourselves because we couldn't take it anymore, some of us couldn't deal with the world going to hell and ended up going nuts."

"Yeah, I know." Ayaka's brow furrowed slightly now. "I mean, I can understand why. When... When the adults died, we gathered in the school and tried to figure out what to do next. Takato kept saying that a hero would come, like in those manga he read or the superhero shows he watched. His sense of ethics came from those heroes. But no one came to save us. No one came to take that pain away. So he... So he figured he would have to be that superhero."

.*.

Takeru had always thought that the children that did survive the Apocalypse and ensuing chaos pretty much had to be a touch crazy. He had his own little obsessions and bouts of rage where he could see nothing but red. It didn't surprise him that some were crazier than others.

That this man, Takato, had taken on an alternate identity to cope with the loss was fairly normal and harmless compared to some of the psychos out there. Takeru had even seen it several times. He just wished that Takato had chosen somewhere else besides the middle of the road to play hero.

A small sigh escaped him as he followed Takato, who preferred to be called the White Knight, to the so-called secret lair to dig up supplies so they could get the rover fixed and follow Kai's lead. It was, rather unsurprisingly, the basement of a boarded up old house. As much as he disliked leaving Daisuke behind and keeping Patamon hidden, Takato insisted on only taking one person. So, here he was: trying to extract whatever information Kai got out of this man. Drawing blood from a stone would probably be easier.

The White Knight, in his painted patchwork armor and red blanket-turned-cape, turned to gaze solemnly at Takeru through clunky yellow goggles. "You must swear that whatever you see here is not spoken of in the world outside."

"I promise."

"What happened to my cousin? The man who came before you," Takato asked as he moved aside random boxes full of fireworks and baseball bats to grant greater leeway for the both of them. "I liked him. He had a good heart."

Takeru grimaced at that. He still wasn't comfortable with the circumstances surrounding Kai's death, and wouldn't be for a long time. And Kai was this guy's cousin? Part of him wanted to tell the truth, but he doubted Takato would accept that. "He died a hero's death," he half-lied, and hoped it was enough. "He was shot saving Daisuke and me from bad guys."

"There are worse ways to go," the White Knight practically whispered.

"Right." Yeah, there were probably worse ways to go, but drowning in one's own blood wasn't that much better than dying from the virus that wiped out the adult world, as far as Takeru was concerned. "So, what did you tell him before he left?"

The White Knight gestured to a laptop hooked up to a mess of wires and, eventually, to a hand generator. "Not tell, show. He wanted to see my database."

There was little Takeru could do but stare in astonishment at the fully operational laptop. "I was never much of a computer geek when I was a kid," Takato said as he watched the boot-up screen, "but when... when it happened, I realized that to be a superhero, I needed the resources. So I did something bad and stole this computer from... from there. The generator I found later. But it was for a good cause! And it helps me keep track of stuff."

"What is it?"

A database was soon pulled up, and its contents sorted by location and materials. "It's stuff I find and count. Here, have a look."

Might as well humor the man, Takeru thought as he settled into the seat before the laptop. Apparently there was a tea house named Atori that had two hundred and fifty-seven tea cups, two hundred and seventy-four saucers, and... "Hey, Takato? Why is this of any use to anyone?"

"I am the White Knight," the man stated importantly behind him, and the swish of cloth made Takeru suspect that the man was posing too. Wonderful. "And the numbers are entirely accurate, if you want to know."

Takeru wisely said nothing as he flipped through the database. While supplies were nice and all, and he did find the location of a few replacement tires, he didn't have a clue as to why it was important enough for Kai to take note of Takato. Then, when he was ready to give up, he decided to stop beating around the bush and asked aloud as he began typing in the place's name in the search box.

"Say, any chance I can find this-"

Takato pulled up those silly looking goggles of his to lean close. When he read the line of text, he panicked and slammed the laptop closed. Startled, Takeru jumped.

"Hey, what'd you do that for?"

Something changed in Takato. The White Knight persona fell away like a mask, leaving a terrified man. With eyes wide and voice hysterical, he began rambling. "Don't tell, they said. Never tell. The men of fire will come to get us. Never tell. Don't tell. Never tell."

Now alarmed, Takeru gripped the man by the shoulders in an attempt to bring him back to reality. "What do you know about Amaterasu's Cave?"

"White, so white. Needles and electrodes. Can't tell, mustn't tell."

He was torn. On one hand, this man sounded like he had been a lab rat in Amaterasu's Cave and was the closest link to it that Takeru had seen so far. On the other hand, whatever Takato experienced there was enough to reduce him to this. To press on the matter would be torture. With a sigh, he surrendered.

"Never mind. Can I copy this," he queried, gesturing to the laptop. Takato shuddered slightly before he gave a single, hesitant nod. Takeru carefully dug around for a spare floppy disk. Once he found one in a cabinet, he copied the file and took note of the database program. Maybe someone at Iwakuni would have the program that could open the file.

It took awhile for Takato to calm down enough to be more responsive. When he did, his eyes fixed upon the floor. "Sorry about that... episode. I get like that whenever I hear or see those words."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me where it is," Takeru asked, rather hopeful that now that Takato was calm, the man would be able to talk.

"North. Somewhere far up north. Sorry, I can't give anything more specific." A self-deprecating half-smile crossed Takato's face. "It's hard to give directions to some place you were trying to run away from and doing your best to pretend it was all a nightmare."

"Thanks. It's more than I had to work with before. Was there anything else you told Kai?"

Takato shook his head at that. "That was all he was interested in. Then we went on patrol. Do you want to go on patrol too?"

Takeru pondered this for a moment before agreeing. It was getting late, hopefully patrol meant the hardware stores where he could find the parts, and they would have to leave in the morning anyway. Might as well.

.*.

Takenouchi Sora had seen a lot of bad things in her life, but she was rather thankful that the Digital World had come along before the Apocalypse did. She wasn't sure she'd have been able to deal with it without experiencing the Digital World. When her father had pulled some strings with fellow professors and gotten the family into Iwakuni Base, she had prayed that the virus wouldn't get in. On the list of really bad shit, the virus was at the top. At least Apocalymon was sort of understandable, if not excusable. When the virus had gotten in despite all precautions, she held her chin up and refused to cry. She had seen the Digital World nearly destroyed, so she could handle this.

While Osamu was busy picking up the pieces and organizing things, the other children had come to Sora for comfort and reassurance. She was pretty sure that it was about that time that the polarization of power settled into place. Osamu was a decent leader, but too harsh and demanding at times for the other children's comfort. They would come to her because she offered patience and a sympathetic ear, and should they ask for advice, she gave it the best way she knew how.

In time, Osamu noticed the unofficial power she had and called her into his office. She would probably have been scared as hell that he'd have her kicked out, but he himself just didn't scare her. She had faced far worse in her life. But much to her relief, he had suggested a collaboration. Sure, it was probably an attempt to place her in a position that was better suited for himself, but she really couldn't complain. While Osamu had made most of the executive decisions and could pass or veto anything the council wanted him to look at, she had the power to decide whether or not Osamu really needed to see anyone and could make her own decisions related to the upkeep of the base. And, when Osamu had disappeared, she fulfilled that role for Ken as well once he came into power. Even though she hadn't agreed with Osamu on a lot of things and didn't like that he hid so much from her, she enjoyed the fact that Ken trusted her enough to share his secrets with her. He treated her like a second in command instead of a secretary.

However, there was one secret she was not privy to until she followed him earlier that day, and the fact that Ken never trusted her enough to tell her stung. She had watched in horror as he talked to the older woman kept under glass as if the woman was an adoptive mother. The moment she noticed the streaks of white in the woman's hair, she had to bite back a gasp of surprise. There wasn't supposed to be anyone that old anymore! The woman said she was a carrier, walking Death, and it took Sora every amount of strength she had to keep from running to the council instead of choosing to talk to Ken first. Even though he didn't trust her, she needed an answer.

It was out of loyalty to Ken that she sat in his command room, waiting patiently in the dark for his return. He came, finally, at the exact minute he always returned from those mysterious trips of his.

"Sora, what are you doing here," the younger man asked once he turned on the lights. "How is the Ainu delegate doing?"

Sora's voice was kept amazingly steady, all things considered. "He's doing fine and is currently in the cafeteria. The meeting with him is in an hour, all his people want are the same terms we've had before. You just need to sign the paperwork."

Ken watched her warily, much to her disappointment. "So, was there anything else?"

"How's the carrier doing?"

The silence that fell was a heavy, nearly tangible tension that threatened to choke Sora. Her friend glowered at her, his eyes narrowed to slits and his arms crossed in a defensive gesture. She knew it would happen, but it hurt nonetheless. Ken was too much like a little brother to her now for it to not hurt.

"Did Jianliang tell you," he nearly hissed at her. "Because if he did-"

Sora shook her head violently. Though she knew Jianliang was probably the only person who preferred Osamu's regime instead of Ken's, he just wasn't one to betray anyone's trust. "No. I was wondering why you kept wandering off at certain times and followed you. And since you went to that part of the base that only you and Jen have security clearance for, I had to be careful and watch you several times to get the code right. Jen has nothing to do with this."

With a sigh, Ken's defensive posture loosened slightly. "Sorry, it's just..."

"Ken, think about it. Jen's only concern is keeping the base safe. He wouldn't betray you. But really, you should have told me. I thought you said you trusted me." As much as she tried, Sora couldn't keep the hurt entirely out of her voice.

There was a scraping noise as Ken pulled back a chair to sit down in before telling her anything. "I do trust you, but she was my brother's secret first. It didn't feel right to share a dead man's secret."

And that, she suspected, was the heart of the matter. "I know you just want to honor his memory, but _she_ is a danger to everyone in this base-"

" _If_ she gets out," he interrupted her with a rather sharp edge to his voice. "Osamu had the choice: cut power to the isolation room and let her die, or let her live on the faint hope that someday he'd be able to learn enough from her blood to create a vaccine. He kept her alive because he _didn't_ want the same thing that happened to the last generation to happen to this one, and he knew that virii don't survive long without host tissue.

"I know I spouted a lot of nonsense about trying to change the world." Ken's shoulders slumped slightly, almost unnoticeably, as he continued. "I know it's not my brother's vision; he just wanted to restore order. I just wanted to build something better. Something beyond his shadow's reach. And I know I kept saying that I wanted a world where we wouldn't have to hide things, but Mrs. Makino needs to stay hidden. At least for now. But if you want to tell the council, I can't stop you. I trust you to do the right thing."

The minutes seemed to stretch endlessly as Sora mulled over the conversation. She was still tempted to go to the council, but if there was even the slightest hope that the carrier's immune system would provide their salvation, she would have to have faith in that chance. With Kai's last report and the suggestion that the virus was back, they needed every chance that came their way.

When she rose, it was with mixed feelings, but one thing was certain. "I'll think about it. But next time, please don't hide such big secrets from me."

.*.

Night had already descended hours before Takeru and Takato returned to camp with a couple of replacement tires, and something felt immensely off to both of them. They soon pinpointed the origins of that feeling of wrongness: camp firelight revealed the signs of a struggle and Daisuke was limping towards them with more bruises and cuts than he had when they left him to be patched up by Ayaka.

"About time you two came back," Daisuke scowled slightly once he got close enough for the two to notice the full extent of the damage. "Raiders came. I tried to fight them off, and would have if that wuss of a husband Ayaka has actually tried to put up a struggle. Yuuji? Is that his name? Whatever. He ran off the moment they came. Didn't even try to save Ayaka."

Worry settled itself as a frown on Takato's face. "Did she get hurt?"

"Nah, even though she managed to rake a few bloody rows into some of them. They took her and the rover once they realized there was only one of me. I did manage to injure five of them before I went down." For just a moment, Daisuke actually looked rather pleased at that. "So, there's about seven of them overall. We can probably retrieve Ayaka and the rover and bail."

"She's as good as dead," a small voice quavered from behind a broken-down car. The man, Yuuji, shuffled forward in anxiety. "You should probably leave before they come back."

The three other men glared at him with a mix of disgust at his cowardice and rage that he had done nothing. Takato, now immersed in his White Knight role, stepped forward with a swish of his cape and determination on his face. "I'll save her. It's my job."

"Don't be stupid, they'll kill you," Yuuji snapped. "But then, they'll probably be doing us a favor."

There were times when Daisuke really didn't like people. He didn't like seeing people downtrodden, molested, abused, or otherwise mistreated. He liked it even less when someone like Yuuji, who didn't even have the spine to save his own wife, would shoot down any attempt to make things better. It was with no regret that he turned and smacked Yuuji upside the head. "Dude, I don't know what your deal is, but _stay_ if you're going to be this much of a pissant and let the real men do the work."

Yuuji cursed under his breath as he retreated, and whatever he said was not heeded as the trio began planning their rescue mission.

.*.

Even though she knew she shouldn't worry about Ken's judgment, the anxiety gnawed at Sora's gut and kept her awake. Talking to Piyomon about it didn't seem to help, which was a peculiarity in itself because she always felt better after talking to her digimon partner. It wasn't that she didn't have faith in Ken, but how long would it be before any of their people would be able to develop the skill to create a vaccine from Makino Rumiko's cells? Osamu may have been brilliant enough to think he could figure it out over time, but he was dead now.

When she could take no more, she left her quarters to walk down the eternally-lit corridors in hopes that it would clear her mind. Piyomon remained behind to catch up on sleep. Save for the infrequent presence of the night staff, the hallways were emptier than she was used to. The shoes she had scavenged from her mother's wardrobe clapped eerily in the silence.

Eventually she found herself before the secured door leading to the supposedly abandoned part of the base. "This section is sealed off for security reasons and will remain that way," Osamu once said. She wondered what else he had hidden in this place, but decided that it was better not to pursue such a question. With a quick tapping of a few keys on the pad near the doors, the magnetic locks were released and allowed her to enter. Although she had said that she wouldn't reveal this secret to anyone else, Sora needed to talk to the carrier and this was probably the best time to do it.

The isolation room itself was actually two rooms separated by a wall that was half glass, and the only connectors were a full-sized door and a much smaller square-shaped entryway leading into a sterilization chamber that opened up into the isolated half of the room. The half that was the viewing room had consoles with which to operate the sterilization chamber and connected entryways. There were a couple of chairs for technicians, but only one saw regular use. And the isolated half-

"I know someone's out there," an older woman said from the sealed-off part of the room. Her voice was made tinny by microphones and speakers, but it was understandable enough. "I've gotten pretty good at feeling someone else's presence."

Sora swallowed down a lump in her throat, though she couldn't quite figure out why it was there. It was rather unfair for her to stay in the dark while Mrs. Makino rose from her bed to turn on the lights on her side of the room, so Sora did the same. Though she absently noticed the bookshelves, bed, and a screen that hid what was probably the bathroom area, her attention was focused on the middle-aged occupant. Her throat tightened at the view, and she had to blink tears away to clear her vision. Her own mother would have been that age by now.

Mrs. Makino crossed the short expanse of her room to peer out the glass that separated them. "Good evening, dear. Are you Sora?"

There was little more that Sora could do but nod mutely in response. She pulled up the unused chair and sat primly upon it.

"Ken told me all about you, and said you'd come to visit at some point. I didn't think it would be so soon." Mrs. Makino smiled kindly, almost fondly, at her. "This will probably sounds weird, but you remind me of my daughter. Must be the hair."

Unconsciously Sora reached up with her fingers to brush against the red strands that escaped her ponytail. Mrs. Makino had a daughter? Why hadn't she even considered that? She took a deep, stabilizing breath before she decided to say anything. "I'm sorry for waking you, Mrs. Makino, but I needed to talk to you."

"You want to know why I've been allowed to stay alive when I should have died," the older woman asked. Her tone was not accusatory or bitter. Sora wondered faintly if Mrs. Makino had asked herself that question.

"That was one of the questions. The other was: Why were you sent here and not someplace better suited to study your immune system?" There were other questions, of course, but Sora felt that they were best kept to herself.

Makino Rumiko closed her eyes and contemplated for a minutes the best way to answer such questions. When no good, quick answer would come to mind, Mrs. Makino opened her eyes to give her visitor an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry, this'll end up long no matter how I try to answer those questions. Would you mind a story?"

Whatever moved her to respond with what she did, Sora never knew. She simply sat up straight, nodded, and said "Go ahead. We have all the time in the world."

.*.

The raider camp was nearly three-quarters of a kilometer from the cluster of broken-down train cars, and as such was fairly easy to get to. Once the fireworks from Takato's lair were set in place, they were ready to begin.

"I am the White Knight," a strong, clear tenor rang out into the night. The light of fireworks illuminated his figures, lending him an almost unearthly countenance. While he acted as the distraction, two figures snuck around the edges of the camp clearing to get to the rover. "I use my powers to aid the weak and downtrodden, but not for evil." The groggy raiders, awoken by the noise and lights, lunged after him with all the power they could muster. As they came close, they were each struck aside by concentrated blasts of air from an unseen force. The White Knight continued with his speech as he strode through the camp. "I punish those who dare to hurt others. But I will be kind, because the world is cruel. I will endure pain so that no one will ever have to look up and wonder why they lost so much. And if I need to, I will give my life to set things right again." The White Knight paused before a tent to pull aside its flap and step within.

His friend looked up from her bonds, bewildered, and could not find the right words to say. "Thank you" felt so inadequate to Ayaka. "I'm sorry" couldn't possibly excuse all the times she laughed at Takato's insanity behind his back and let Yuuji get away with laughing in his face. Yuuji hadn't even tried to come to her aid. Therefore, she said nothing as the White Knight cut her free from the post she was tied to. As Ayaka took the proffered hand and allowed him to pull her up from the ground, she decided that there would be time enough later to make amends.

Once they emerged from the tent, the rover swung by and paused only long enough to let them on. The White Knight hurried Ayaka into the rover's bed first, then hopped in when the rover began to move again. He was halfway in the bed, with the majority of his weight on the fender, when one of the raiders had gathered enough wits to throw a knife at him. The blade sank deep into his right shoulder, and the pain was enough to make him lose his grip on the tailboard. Ayaka scrambled forth to grab his right hand and pulled when the rover's acceleration made him lean away, but it wasn't enough to save him. Something hit him in the back, but it did no damage and the force was enough to help Ayaka yank him into the rover's bed.

Takato would never really know what it was that hit him then. It was too dark for him to see the mud-encrusted patamon that fluttered into the front carriage of the rover, and the pain and Ayaka's babbling at him as she tended to his wound drowned out the small voice in the front that requested a bath when they got back. Oddly enough, all Takato could think about as he drifted in and out of consciousness was that he'd seen Takeru before. Somewhere. Perhaps from his childhood. However, the pain was enough to take him off that train of thought.

.*.

"I was doing a photo shoot (I was a fashion model back then) in California when I caught the virus. It had an incubation period of a few weeks and it had just broken out, so no one had died of it yet. When I was done, I went back home. Ruki, my daughter, was so mad at me for going off again without her that I promised I'd take her with me next time. The next shoot was in Hiroshima, so I thought I'd take my mother and daughter with me. By that time, enough people had died in the United States that there was an epidemic alarm and they were shutting down the airports. Trying to keep people from leaving the country. It's a shame the attempt was futile. Anyway, a few weeks after that, my manager died of the virus, then my mother and every adult I came into contact with. I guess the government figured out that I'd brought the virus to Japan, so they came for me."

Rumiko paused in her story-telling to take a deep breath. While it didn't bring tears to her eyes like it used to, the memory still hurt. She didn't mention how it felt like her world had shattered with her mother died of the very disease she herself was immune to, or how guilty she felt when she had survived and no one else did. She didn't mention how scared she was for Ruki because her family had always hit puberty early. Her mother had hit puberty at fourteen, she had hit it at thirteen, and she had been so worried that Ruki wouldn't survive until Ken came along and told her that her daughter lived. These were her own personal demons, and they weren't to be shared.

"The most secure place in the area was this base, so they brought me here and told me that I'd be shuttled to Tokyo as soon as preparations were made to accommodate me. So I could be studied in a proper lab environment. I guess whomever was going to take me died on the way over. But I waited patiently, hoping that there were others like me who were immune. Then, one day, the scientists and food stopped coming." _And I panicked and beat against the glass to get someone's attention. Someone, come help me, please. I have a little girl who needs me. Please don't let me die before I see her. Please let me out! I promise not to touch anyone. I'll live in one of those biohazard suits and eat only those horrible military rations. I'll do anything! Just please let me go to Ruki._

A small, unfamiliar woman's voice, laced with undeserved concern, penetrated Rumiko's flashback and reminded her that she still had a story to tell. She gave an apologetic half-bow before clearing her too-tight throat to continue. "I would have died from starvation if the little emperor hadn't come when he did. Sometimes I'd lay awake at night and wonder why he hadn't shut off the life support system when he first came, but then I always reminded myself that I was his lab rat and he was only keeping me alive for the day he could take my blood and derive a vaccine from it. In time he came to confide in me, as if I could replace the mother he lost. When he died, I played the same roles for the little prince."

The silence that followed was as tense as it had been when she first saw Osamu. The person in the other room was fully capable of ending her life with the flip of a switch, and she would be entirely deserving of it. But-

Sora rose with the grace of one brought up by a traditional Japanese woman, and Rumiko was struck again by the similarity in hair color to her daughter. Would Ruki look like that now? Would Ruki forgive her for bringing the downfall of Japan, or gaze upon her with new understanding like Sora had? She shook off those thoughts before they went too deep, for the likelihood of seeing her daughter again was far too miniscule.

"Thank you for the story, Mrs. Makino. It makes my decision easier to follow through." Sora gave a slight bow of respect. "It is late, so I should return to bed."

A faint smile appeared on Rumiko's face. "Please, dear, call me Rumiko. Will you be back again? I do so miss the company of women."

"If you will have me. The next time I come, might I bring my sketchbook? I, er, sort of dabble in fashion design." Sora gave an uncertain half-smile at that. "I don't usually show people because no one cares about that kind of thing anymore, but..."

"Oh, I'd love to see!" Rumiko's mood lightened considerably. Oh, it had been so long since she'd seen anything related to her past occupation. "Could you bring a flower from outside too? I miss flowers."

"Of course, M- Rumiko. Good night."

As Rumiko wished the younger woman sweet dreams in turn, she felt better than she had in years. Oh, Ken was sweet in his own way, but it was so nice to have another woman to talk to again.

.*.

Matsuda Takato wasn't an idiot, despite what rumors said. Just because he wanted to make a difference did not mean he was stupid. His armor had been a conglomeration of several museum collections and painted over with white enamel, and it served well against everything but gunfire. The goggles were shatter-proof and he had adopted them from his childhood hero. He took on this identity because he believed in heroes, and when the old world died, he decided that the new world would need a hero to stand up against the collapse of social mores. Heroes had taught him right from wrong, the strength to stand up against the end of the world and the fall of authority, and the confidence to go on when the rest of the world thought he was insane. It was hard work and he didn't enjoy the lack of respect, but it was the role he chose for himself and he had gotten so used to that role that it had cost him dearly.

He never expected a knife to get lucky and wedge itself in the unprotected space between his shoulder guard and the back plate of his armor, and that reminder of his mortality was a slap in the face. Ayaka told him that his right arm would be useless until the muscles repaired themselves completely. Oh, he would probably be back on the job afterwards, but in the interim he would be out of commission and easy fodder should the raiders decide to retaliate. It was with a heavy heart that he agreed to put away his armor, cape, and goggles and retreat with Ayaka and Yuuji to a nearby settlement.

To add to the hurt, the kids he sometimes told stories to came by to visit while Ayaka and Yuuji were packing and found that the White Knight was indeed mortal. When one of the boys repeated his father's insults to Takato's intelligence and his friends said nothing, Takato simply sighed and wondered if it was all useless. Was he arrogant for thinking one man could change the world? Was it even possible?

When he voiced these thoughts to Daisuke on the ride to the settlement, Daisuke reassured him that his efforts were better than doing nothing at all and Takeru echoed the sentiment. It was nice of them to try to cheer him up, but-

"Hey, you said something about one man being able to change the world," Takeru asked from the driver's side. His eyes were on something other than the road this time, and Takato wondered faintly whether he should be worried. "Look on the hill to the left."

Takato looked up, unsure what he was supposed to look for. He noticed it when the rover drove closer: a boy in armor made of scraps of metal, a red blanket for a cape, and goggles probably salvaged from the abandoned town the boy lived near. The boy saluted them as they drove past, and Takato had never felt better in his life.


	4. Kindred Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kai's trail leads to Izumi Koushiro, who has dangerous information that others will kill over.

It had been at least two weeks since Takeru's life had turned upside down once again. Two weeks since he had gone from the life of a nomadic hunter to acting as an informant for Ichijouji Ken in his quest to find his parents. Every entry in Kai's journal tantalized him with ethereal suggestions of their location, and every contact of Kai's that talked to him gave him more to work with. While he didn't particularly like being Ken's informant, the job seemed perfectly suited to guide him further towards his goal.

The thing that struck him as weird, however, was Daisuke's willingness to go along with him regardless of the potential risk. He just didn't get it. Sure Ken offered them a place to call home in exchange for the service, but couldn't Daisuke just find some other job at the base? Why would Daisuke want to accompany him on _his_ personal quest? Daisuke said that it was because Takeru had been nice to him and that _he_ had more of a sense of purpose than most people nowadays. It still didn't make much sense to Takeru, but maybe that was just the kind of person Daisuke was. At least they got along reasonably well.

A sigh escaped Takeru's lips as he rotated their supper over the fire. It was a rather large salmon that Patamon had wrestled out of the nearby river in a manner that would have been reminiscent of bears had Patamon been larger. But Patamon was proud of himself, and the praise that followed was well-deserved. Daisuke voiced minor complaints about having to cover up the rover with branches, but Takeru didn't pay them too much attention. His mind was on other things.

There were an awful lot of people wanting to change the world. Takato did so by making himself a hero and inspiring others to follow in his footsteps, and Takeru had little doubt that Takato would return to his chosen vocation the moment he healed. Ken planned to do so when "the time is right," whenever that was, and he could introduce order to the world again. Ruki, in her own way, was doing her part by giving former school nerds room to grow intellectually and work out the mysterious technology of the old world. Yamato's dream was to bring back music, and he was quite successful at it. Even further back, there had been the Ainu tribes that brought themselves back from the edge of extinction to introduce ways of hunting and growing food that didn't need a gun or electricity.

There were so many powers at work, great and small, that Takeru wondered where his place in the big picture was. Was he simply another of Ken's pawns, one that wouldn't even be a footnote in the history books? Not that it mattered much, since all he really wanted was to find his parents again. Obscurity wasn't all that bad if he had his parents with him.

He looked up when Daisuke had thrown down the last handful of branches in mock disgust. The shorter man sat and eyed the salmon appreciatively. "That's a really nice catch there. Should go great with the rice."

"Rice is in that pot," Takeru said as he gestured to the pot that had been set aside to cool. "Nice thing about working for Ken..."

Daisuke grinned as he began shovelling rice onto his plate. "Military-issue mess kit, food, a land rover and gas for it, and nice soft mattresses waiting of us between missions. Man, we practically live like kings."

"Isn't it funny? When I was a kid, I'd call this 'roughing it' and whine to Yamato about wanting to go home. Now, well..." Takeru felt it was better to leave the rest of the sentence unspoken, but he wasn't too surprised when Daisuke decided to follow up on it regardless.

"Now we know we had it good." Daisuke paused to add flakes of dried seaweed to his rice. "This is a damn sight better than having to scavenge for canned food and finding some hole to curl up in for the night."

Takeru nodded silently as he removed the fish from the spit for slicing into bite-sized chunks. He didn't want to mention that he had been lucky enough to run into the Ainu early on and was taught to hunt when he reached his tenth year. From what he could tell of Daisuke's behaviors at times and the occasional hints dropped, his friend hadn't been so fortunate. Maybe once Ken trusted them enough to let Daisuke meet and bond with a digimon, he could teach Daisuke how to hunt. Having to scavenge was no way to live.

Once Patamon returned with some freshly cleaned green onions, the trio ate in companionable silence. Their personal nightly rituals followed soon afterwards, and sleep came when conversations wound down. It was a familiar pattern of late, and none of them expected any different.

In the small hours of the morning, the inattentiveness would be rewarded with a theft. Shadows hid the figure well, and the light of the moon and stars were just enough for the figure to recognize what it needed. It slipped to the rover's side with the grace of a master of the art of theft. There was little more than the creaking of hinges as the figure opened the gas tank's lid and carefully lowered a hose into the tank. With just a bit of encouragement by way of a hand pump, gasoline was siphoned from the tank to the glass jar the figure brought along. And, had Daisuke not been awoken by a nightmare, the figure would have gotten away with the theft.

The only reason Daisuke knew to check on the rover was because he heard liquid being poured into something. He moved with the silence of one well-practiced in sneaking around others, and the thief was so fixated on stealing their gasoline that she didn't notice Daisuke until it was too late. When Daisuke tackled the thief, she let out a startled yelp and tried to struggle away from him. Though he was the stronger of the two, he was caught off guard when he finally caught a view of her face. Something struck him as familiar about her, but he couldn't quite put a finger on _why_ she was familiar. His hold slackened enough for the woman to break away and run. Puzzled, Daisuke could only stare after her.

.*.

The day was slightly overcast in the suburbs of the once-great city of Nagoya, but spirits seemed to be high in the residents. Mention of an upcoming festival kept being tossed about by the locals. Daisuke was thrilled by the prospect, and this was because they were both sorely in need of a good party and Iwakuni wasn't exactly the most exciting place to be. And, while the gasoline theft put a damper on Takeru's own mood, he had a good reason to look forward to meeting the next contact on Kai's list. Patamon, when he was told whom they were going to meet, crowed in joy and insisted on coming along this time. He didn't even mind being stuffed in a backpack.

The trio made their way to what was once a bar that offered such Western-style entertainment as darts and billiards. The sign had since been painted over, so whatever it was called before, they didn't know. People socialized around billiard tables, dart boards, and roulettes with drinks in hand. And, oddly enough, both barkeepers were familiar to Takeru.

The blonde barkeeper he remembered from Osaba, and he couldn't imagine why she was _here_ instead of the Osaba bar. He had only spoken to her in passing and never once thought she'd have any connection to this place's owner. The owner himself was a childhood friend, and Takeru recognized that shock of spiky red hair anywhere.

"Koushiro! How's it going?"

Izumi Koushiro blinked up at Takeru from a battered old paper notebook and dropped his pencil in surprise when he recognized who was calling out to him. He waved his old childhood friend over to the bar.

It was when he got a good look at the bar itself that Takeru's jaw dropped. Spread out behind the bar, where liquor bottles were normally displayed, was a huge map of Japan glued onto a cork board that had been nailed to the shelves. Perhaps hundreds of tiny pins stuck strips of paper to the map, and on each strip was a name and date. He had no idea Koushiro had something like this.

"Like it?" Koushiro looked particularly proud of his map. "So many people started coming in when I staked this place out that I decided to start it up. This place was a nexus of information once you got truth out of the rumors people spread. Since there are no phones anymore, this helps me keep people in touch with each other or help them find someone they're looking for. Primitive version of the Internet, but it works. One can of food gets you a pin on the map for half a year; a CD-Rom, DVD, or ten thousand yen gets you a year. Bring me a computer or fifty thousand yen and you get five years."

"But dude, what do you need those for? Money's useless and you need electricity to run a computer," Daisuke blurted out. As awesome as the map was, he didn't understand why this guy Takeru knew would want things no one could use anymore.

Koushiro eyed Daisuke curiously before returning his attention to Takeru. "Friend of yours?"

"Yeah. He knows about our... er... special friends." Takeru mentally kicked himself for the poor attempt at being subtle. "Special friends," indeed. He should probably change the subject. "Say, where are our old club members, anyway?"

Koushiro's dark eyes twinkled in amusement at the subject change and dug out a lecture pointer. Once it was extended, he tapped it once on each location as he explained. "Well, most of us wander a lot, but the Yagamis usually settle down in Suzu in the winters and Jou tends to stick to that cabin of his outside Osaka when he's tired of house calls. Mimi lives in the Niigata region, and I hear she settled down because she has a kid now. No one knows who the father is and she won't tell us. When Yamato's not touring, he spends his time in Yokohama. I don't know exactly where Sora is, but I have ways of contacting her. But you, Takeru, you've been a problem."

It took a moment for it all to sink in. Mimi had a kid? She never seemed the type to be interested in breeding. Takeru wondered faintly who had knocked her up, but if Koushiro didn't know, it probably wasn't anyone in _their_ group. And he wanted to bring up where he could be reached from now on, but he would need privacy. "Hey, is there a quiet place we can talk around here?"

The hall's owner gave a brief nod and called out to his companion, who was pointedly acting as if she wasn't listening in on them. She tucked away a perfectly clean beer mug and washcloth before giving her employer an innocent look.

"Orimoto, can you keep an eye on business for a bit," Koushiro asked. "My friend and I need to get reacquainted."

"Volentieri, Izumi." The woman grinned as Daisuke's eyes widened and darted from her to Koushiro.

"What the... But..."

"Oh, excuse my manners." Koushiro gave a formal bow, but it was clear he enjoyed the confusion as much as the blonde woman seemed to. "I'm Izumi Koushiro, and this is Orimoto Izumi. It seems your friend knows Orimoto personally, Takeru."

"We met in Osaba, but I never picked up her name," Takeru admitted with a slightly sheepish tone. "Daisuke stuck around longer than I did."

"And he was much better company." Orimoto Izumi's grin took on a decidedly impish aspect. "Now hurry along. I can take care of things for the time being."

Izumi Koushiro mouthed a silent "thank you" to her before escorting Takeru to a door that led to a flight of stairs. Daisuke, though he was torn between curiosity and wanting to ask Orimoto Izumi why she was here, opted for the path of least annoyance for everyone: he stayed with the woman as Takeru and Koushiro went upstairs.

An apartment had been built above the bar and gaming hall. The door was locked, but Koushiro seemed to have procured the keys from what was probably the previous owner's pockets. When opened, the door revealed a common room littered with computer systems, wires, and some odd device connected to car batteries that Takeru suspected Koushiro got his electricity from. Once they were in the safety of the living room and the door was locked again behind them, Takeru set down the backpack carefully to let out Patamon. Patamon cheered happily and began flapping in circles around their heads until he ran out of air and settled on his usual perch.

"Koushiro! It's been so long! How are you and Tentomon? Where _is_ Tentomon?"

Koushiro couldn't help but chuckle at Patamon's exuberance. Some things never changed. "He's probably napping in the bedroom. And we're doing fine."

"You're doing fine," a familiar voice seemed to buzz from the kitchen. Tentomon flew out and into the living room. When he spoke again, his tone was dry, almost teasing. "I'm the one who has to be hooked up to the batteries every morning."

"You said it just tickled." When Tentomon said nothing and was then distracted by Patamon tackling him, Koushiro returned his attention to Takeru. "You're in deep, aren't you?"

Takeru blinked blankly at that. "What do you mean?"

"You could have told me that you were fully nomadic and left it at that, but if you want to talk in private, you're living someplace you can't or don't want to reveal to the world. Chances are that you don't want to be found and I can't stick you on the map."

Trust Koushiro to figure it out before he even said anything. "I'm living in the same place as Sora. Can't give away more than that unless you want to come back with us and join up. I wasn't told to recruit anyone yet, but Sora and I can probably talk our boss into letting you in," he ended on a cautiously optimistic note. Though Takeru hadn't really thought about what he said, in retrospect it seemed like a good idea. Iwakuni Base could probably do well with Koushiro's skills, and it would be nice to have another member of the old group there.

Dark, calculating eyes studied Takeru carefully for a minute. When it seemed that Koushiro was satisfied with his examination, he responded. "Normally I'd say I would need more information before coming to a decision, but I have a place here. Who will take care of my map when I'm gone and keep the system running? Izumi would be a logical choice, but she'll pack up and leave when she gets bored. The moment I'm gone, some brute would probably lay claims on this place and throw out all my work. Sorry, Takeru, but I can't. Every pin on that map is someone who came by here trying to find siblings and friends."

"Understood. Well, if you can contact with Sora, she'll be able to get word to me."

A hint of a smile tugged at Koushiro's lips. "It's harder than it should be, actually. We used to just send our digimon to pass on messages, but about seven years ago we had to resort to timed meetings and only Piyomon could pass messages. Something about new security measures."

Takeru suspected that was around when Jianliang became chief of security. He'd never met someone so uptight and paranoid. Maybe Jianliang acted differently off duty, but Takeru couldn't remember ever seeing the head of security off duty. "I think I know why, but..."

"But you can't tell," Koushiro said in that tone that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. "Sora said the same thing. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about in private?"

"Yeah. Have a place to sit down? This could take awhile."

Koushiro gave him a questioning look, but then escorted him from the digimon playing around the computer systems to a small dining area connected to the kitchen. There were only two chairs around a small table, but it was enough for Takeru's purpose. He pulled out Kai's journal once he was settled into a chair and flipped to the page mentioning _Izumi's Gaming & Intelligence Center_. "I was asked to follow my predecessor's footsteps, so I'll be asking the same questions. He mentioned here that you had information about the 'men of fire' which may be linked to Amaterasu's Cave. Can you elaborate?"

It was interesting to see any emotions shown on Koushiro's face, especially since the older man was never much for expressing himself that way to begin with, but the anxiety made Takeru wonder about the subject. "How much do you know of them?"

"Not much," Takeru admitted. "Just bits and pieces of rumors."

The older man sighed and settled into the other chair before explaining. "They come in the night, usually in clusters of five, and lay waste to entire settlements. Adults, children, or livestock, it doesn't matter to them. Some people think they're just gangs out to cause trouble, like those pureblood groups. But then I started studying their patterns of movement. The major sightings have been in Tokyo, Fukuoka, Sapporo, Aomori, and Fukushima. However, they don't seem to target the cities themselves. It's the settlements they burn. The reports I get suggest that their strikes are within days or even hours of each other. That's the clincher."

"Clincher?"

"Yes." Though there was a frown on Koushiro's face as he spoke, there was also a glimmer of morbid fascination in his eyes. "The rumors and reports don't take related accounts into consideration, but look at them from a distance. Look at the big picture. Their attacks were well-coordinated even though they happened within a very close timeframe of each other. Take, for example, the winter burning of Aomori, Tokyo, and Fukuoka. They all happened within several hours of each other, despite such vast distances. This suggests that they either had radio to contact each other, or planes. I'd wager on radio, personally."

Takeru's mind tried to wrap itself around the suggestion. Radio meant military power like Iwakuni's. But why would someone with that kind of power want to burn the cities? Cities were useless nowadays. You couldn't grow crops in them or feed livestock on cement, and the few who did remain in cities usually claimed the parks for themselves. The settlements on the outskirts of cities were hardly a threat to anyone, especially if that someone had the military might of Iwakuni Base. "Do you have any idea why? Or what they look like?"

"Have you heard the rumors that the government is trying to come back?"

"Yeah, but I never paid them much attention. It's up there with the rumors of the dead coming back for their kids, and with about as much evidence," Takeru muttered. He always figured they were all just wishes for stability to return.

"In every rumor there's a seed of truth." Much to Takeru's displeasure, Koushiro's voice dropped into lecture mode. "People are ultimately selfish, Takeru, especially if they're politicians. Politicians are typically a patient lot, and if they have to wait a decade or two to come back into power, they will. What I believe is that they're holed up somewhere, just waiting for the right time to draw out of their hiding places and restore the old world. I also believe that these men of fire are agents for them. I'm still working out a hypothesis about _why_ they're burning settlements, however. I suspect that it's related to the virus that killed the adults."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well, diseases don't really die. They can remain dormant for years and spring up again. They can mutate to better suit themselves. That's why there will never be a cure for the common cold. The best we could have hoped for was a vaccine, but everyone died too quickly back then. Now then, I know that remembering the past is painful, but do you remember when the virus turned into an epidemic?"

Takeru winced at the unpleasant imagery that invoked. He remembered the news reports. "They started burning dead bodies to keep the infection contained until there were too many bodies and not enough adults to move them." _But it didn't work. The incubation period was nearly impossible to detect, and when the signs finally appeared, the victim was dead within a day or two. We never had a chance._

"I think that's why these men of fire are out there now. One of the guys I talked to drew up a sketch of what they looked like: men in silver suits and cowls with clear plastic faceplates. They carried flamethrowers on their backs. When my informant drew up the symbol they had on their attire, I... there are times when I hate being right. The symbol is the one used to warn people about biological hazards. The conclusion I came to is that either the virus is back but moves slowly because few people have quick modes of transportation anymore, or someone well-connected made a vaccine and screwed it up. However, because of the lack of facts, I'll have to reserve opinion until something more concrete comes along. That was what I told Kai."

There was little else Takeru could do but remain silent as he mulled over Koushiro's revelations. The implications alone would have been enough to floor him a few weeks ago, but now he had to wonder: how much more didn't he know of what was going on in the world? How many other details had he ignored in his quest? But then again, Koushiro had always been the logical one and picking out patterns where others only saw chaos was his specialty. That was somewhat reassuring.

The discussions that followed afterwards were of far less importance. They caught up on what had happened to them in the years following the Apocalypse, and recounted memories of the Digital World. During this, Koushiro brought up his own theories about the Digital World's current state. It would have been all too easy for someone to take over in the ensuing chaos, but they weren't entirely sure that there was much _to_ take over anymore. Even with Koushiro's numerous attempts to contact Gennai (all ending in failure), there wasn't much information to work with. The only conclusion they could come to was that whatever had happened to the Digital World wasn't drastic enough to affect the real world as it had during the events of 1999. Nevertheless, there was nothing more they could do but wait.

Takeru had gotten very good at waiting.

.*.

All things considered, Daisuke could think of much less pleasant people to be around. _Orimoto_ Izumi was friendly (if just a bit guarded about more personal matters), cute, and she definitely had a way with mixing drinks. She also had the neatest stories of Italy and didn't seem to mind telling them to him. The only problem with any fanciful thoughts he may have harbored was that she _liked_ being nomadic and didn't enjoy staying in one place for long. She came by this place every few months or so to gather news and help Koushiro with his bar during festival season, but ultimately there was little rhyme or reason to her visitations. Ah well, she'd make a good friend.

Amazingly enough, there was a lot of common ground to cover between them, due in part to their lifestyles. Oh, you were there for Rieko's violin concert too? Wasn't it great? How about the Teenage Wolves? Yeah, Yamato really has gotten odd lately but his music is better. Oh! remember when the Ainu had that festival up near Aomori? Wasn't the food just perfect? Sorry, I didn't get as far as Okinawa, but is it true that the Okinawans are raising sugarcane crops again...

They were interrupted every now and then by someone ordering a beer or two, but it wasn't until Daisuke was midway through his tale of wandering in the Ainu territories (Izumi had never been to the Ainu heartland!) that someone came up for business of another kind. Daisuke returned to his long-forgotten drink as he let Izumi take care of things.

"My sister and I would like to be taken off the map, please," the bespectacled woman with short, strawberry-blonde hair said with all the airs of someone who would really rather be elsewhere. "We're going on a very long trip and it's likely that we won't return for at least a year."

Izumi pulled out what was apparently the logbook and a pencil. "Names?"

"Inoue Miyako and Chizuru," the other, probably the younger sister, muttered as her eyes kept darting around the bar. Daisuke wondered at that behavior, but what nagged at him more was that she was somehow familiar. Where had he seen the long purple hair and glasses that were too large for her face?

Izumi turned briefly to take down their pin before scribbling a notation in the logbook. When that was complete, she flipped through a few pages to read some lines. "It says here you have another sister living out near Gifu. Would you like a message sent to her?"

The older sister looked cautiously hopeful. "If it's no trouble."

"None at all." Izumi looked up from the logbook to give them a quick smile. "Gifu's an old haunt of mine. Since I'll be leaving after the festival, I can deliver it myself."

There was rustling as Izumi dug out a yellowing old stationary set, and a few clacks when she placed an inkwell, brush, stamp, and sealing wax on the bar. The older sister thanked her and began the task of writing out a letter. Daisuke didn't pay this too much attention, puzzled as he was by the younger sister. She didn't look comfortable at all with being there, as if...

As if she was guilty of something.

Rather than make a scene about it, Daisuke grabbed her arm and proceeded to yank her over to a lonely corner. He would have, anyway, if she hadn't-

The first things that registered in his mind was a loud smack and the hot sting on his cheek. So much for trying not to make a scene. "Let go of me, you pervert!"

"Hey listen, lady," he hissed as he released her arm to tenderly touch his cheek and make sure she hadn't broken skin or anything. "I've seen you before."

The woman's brown eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. "I'm not returning it."

Daisuke blinked blankly for a bit before he finally connected the dots. _She_ was the thief? Well, okay, that made sense considering her discomfort with being here, but still... "I don't care about the gas."

It was her turn to watch him quizzically. "Then what the hell is this all about?"

"I remember you," Daisuke began with some apprehension over the upcoming subject matter. "From before the... before then. Did you ever live in Odaiba?"

"Yeah, my family owned a convenience store there-"

"Ai-mart. My sister used to go there sometimes to visit her friend. Momo? Momoko? Midori?"

"Momoe." The woman's gaze was somewhat distant as she fought to remember the years so many others had forgotten. "She didn't have a lot of friends, but her best friend was this one girl... I forgot her name though. She had a little brother around my age, but I only saw him once or twice in passing."

Daisuke couldn't help but grin at that. "You know how older sisters are. You'd think dragging their kid siblings around was worse than having the parents show potential boyfriends their baby pictures."

"Like we could make them look any more dorky." The woman giggled for a moment. When it tapered off, she cleared her throat and stuck her right hand out to him. "Since we've never been formally introduced: Hi, I'm Miyako."

He took the hand with gusto and shook it a few times. As much as he disliked remembering the past, some things weren't so bad. "Hey there, Miyako. Most people call me Daisuke, but my sister sometimes likes to call me a pain in the ass."

Miyako smiled slightly at that as she withdrew her hand. "Yeah, my sisters call me that too. Say, since it's my last day in town, want a guide to the festival? Chizuru and I would appreciate the company."

Well then, who was Daisuke to turn down any such offer?

.*.

As the night settled in, Takeru wandered around the festival crowd. He wasn't altogether surprised that Daisuke had left a message with Izumi saying that they'd probably have to meet up at the place they hid the rover at dawn, so Takeru simply assumed that his traveling companion would probably find somewhere to sleep and chose to bunk down at Koushiro's for the night. If nothing else, Patamon loved being with a fellow digimon he'd known for so long and Koushiro's offer of supper and a spare futon couldn't be refused.

He didn't want to get into Koushiro's hair too much when the evening brought about a sizeable influx of patrons to the bar and kept both Izumis busy, so he opted to explore for a bit in the hope that high spirits would loosen some tongues and give him more information to work with. Well, maybe if he were lucky.

At one street corner was a preacher. While Takeru missed a few words due to the background noise, he could understand the gist of what the preacher was trying to say. Something about how the gods had been involved in a great war with demons and humanity had been the toll. But they haven't abandoned us, the preacher insisted, they were just weakened by the war and needed the surviving humans to remain strong so as to give them power. Rather disgusted with it all, Takeru turned away to pluck some free odangos from a merchant's stall (festival-time always meant free food) and went to what was once a suburban park to watch the dancing.

Long ago, these dancers would have been trained in the traditional arts. But, without proper training, they had adopted what they could from memories of the old world. The result was a dance that mixed elements of traditional geisha dances, Ainu ceremonial dances, kabuki theater, and whatever they could remember from the Western influences on television. The music too was a conglomeration of the cultures that had once occupied Japan in such dramatic segregation. It was rather depressing to realize that it took the downfall of the old world to finally get the people to mingle. Even then it wasn't perfect.

As Takeru watched this display by members of a new culture that rose from the old, he was too entranced to notice that he was being watched in turn.

.*.

The festival, in and of itself, had been fun for awhile until Chizuru said she wanted to go back home and rest. Daisuke would have waved them off and wished them well, but then they did something odd and offered to show Daisuke something that no one else in Japan would ever see if he was willing to go with them. With his curiosity piqued, he went along. What harm could it do?

When Miyako said she lived a bit far from the Nagoya settlement, she meant it. While the settlement was mostly clustered around the parks near Nagoya Castle and along the river, Miyako and her sister laid claims on Nagoya International Airport. Since no one was trained to fly, most people ignored the airports and left others like the Inoue sisters with a relatively quiet place in which to settle down. It could be easily defended if necessary.

They passed the terminal completely and walked out to tarmac, where a number of jets sat uselessly, rendered decrepit by the passage of time and lack of maintenance. But, hidden behind the larger air buses and commercial passenger planes was a smaller and well cared-for private jet.

"Yeah, it's not the best thing ever, but it's home," Miyako said as she and her sister passed by him to tug at the hatch. It opened out and allowed them to climb in. "Meet our baby, the Raytheon Hawker 1000. We call him Horus."

Daisuke paused in surprise as he noticed the crates of gasoline tanks stacked together and strapped along the sides of the jet's interior for a third of its length. The stacks began after the tiny beds bolted where there would normally be passenger seats and ended at the door to the lavatory. "So that's why you took the gas."

"Bingo. It's not aviation quality and we've had to add some other materials so the engines can process it, but it'll serve its purpose. And no, we're still not giving it back."

He gave a shrug at that. It really wasn't _his_ gas and the only repercussions to be had would come from Jianliang. He had faced worse than Iwakuni's head of security before. "Doesn't matter. The way I see it, everything we have was taken from the remains of the old world. We don't really own any of it and it's not right to pretend we do."

"That's an interesting view to have. Refreshingly honest too," Chizuru said as she stepped into the cockpit. "Miyako, would you be a dear and explain to our guest what we're planning?"

"Sure." Miyako took a seat on one of the meticulously-made beds and gestured for Daisuke to do the same. Once he followed suit, she began in earnest. "Before all the adults died, my siblings and I were in Nagoya to visit with our aunt and uncle. This jet was theirs, by the way. When they and Mantarou died, we stayed together with the jet for awhile. Couldn't fend off all the scavengers who were hunting down fuel, but we discouraged most of them. Chizuru and Momoe went to work in the rice fields for awhile when I said I wanted to learn how to fly the Hawker, so I spent all my time with flight manuals and books while they brought home the food."

Chizuru returned from whatever it was she did in the cockpit to pull out a bottle of clear water from the galley's refrigerator. "We figured that if anyone had a chance to learn how to work it, Miyako did. She always was good with machines. So, we wouldn't let her have supper until she could tell us something new she learned from them." She gave her sister a puckish grin. "It worked well."

"But why would you want to learn how to fly a plane," Daisuke asked. It was a really impressive feat to learn on one's own, but there wasn't much use for them nowadays.

"That's simple." Miyako's warm brown eyes lit up with passion for the subject. "We want to find out whether or not the death toll was more or less severe in other countries than it was here. What if other countries got back on their feet faster? What would it be like on the other side of the Pacific, or even in Britain? Do they wonder about us the way we wonder about them?"

Chizuru offered both of them a glass of water, and Daisuke was struck by how cool and refreshing it tasted. Wow, he hadn't had anything from a working refrigerator for ages. "Miyako and I kept wondering about that for ages. I took to learning English, Spanish, and navigation while Miyako stuck to the technicalities so that hopefully we'd be able to contact and talk to people. It's a pity Momoe didn't want to go on with it after awhile."

Miyako took a sip of water before responding in a rather sympathetic tone of voice. "She's in love with Japan. The rest of the world doesn't interest her. She would have been miserable on the trip and she knew it."

There was a slight frown on Chizuru's face, as if it had been a subject of long contention. "Well, I hope she's happy in Gifu. Anyway, when we scavenged all the aviation fuel we could from the other planes, we didn't have enough for the trip we planned, so Miyako took to ste-"

"Borrowing," the younger woman interjected.

"Right. She took to 'borrowing' gas from others. I am sorry that you were caught up in it, but we need enough to make it to the American continent and back again. The last batch Miyako got topped off the last of the reserve tanks and we're ready to go at dawn."

Daisuke's glance shifted from one sister to the other. "Wait, don't you need practice or something?"

"You've been at Izumi's, right?" Before Daisuke could respond, Miyako continued with a sort of twinkle in her eye that he couldn't quite define. "Have you ever wondered why he asks for computer parts no one has any use for?"

His memory passed briefly over his encounter with the red-haired barkeeper. "Well, yeah, but Takeru changed the subject before Koushiro could answer me. I thought maybe he was just one of those conspiracy theorists who think the government's coming back and he just wants a leg up in case it does."

"Oh, that's why he wants the money, but not the computer parts. I'd ask you to promise not to tell anyone what I've told you, but I don't think that would be an issue. Your blond friend has one too. I saw it when I paid your rover a visit." Now he could define the twinkle: secret amusement.

"One what?" Daisuke wondered at that. Could she mean-

"Digimon. Koushiro's digimon is Tentomon, an insect type that seems to be able to generate electrical power. When I told Koushiro my theory about why he was collecting things that had no use to anyone without electricity anymore, we exchanged secrets. Our plan to fly to America for how he got his electricity." Miyako smiled then, and he couldn't help but notice that she was rather pretty when she smiled. He firmly shoved that thought to the back of his mind as she continued her story. "Then he did the best thing any outsider had done for us: he let me use his computers each night and collected flight simulators for me. I know flying for real will be very different from a simulator, but it helped a lot. Chizuru took some time to train on them too so she could be the co-pilot."

The elder sister's smile echoed the younger's. "And he even went so far as to come by for a few nights to help us program the autopilot's flightpath."

Interesting as this all was, Daisuke couldn't help but wonder why they brought _him_ here. There were certain signs one made nowadays that illustrated sexual intent, but none of them were used so the sisters didn't seem to want _that_ from him. He was being treated like a guest, so they didn't seem to mean him any harm. He had to ask. "Well, this is cool and all, but why did you want to bring me?"

"That's simple," Chizuru stated as she picked up their empty glasses and returned them to the nearby galley. "We want a witness and Koushiro was just too involved. We were going to choose someone from the festival, but figured that you would probably serve that purpose best since you look like the type to travel a lot. When we saw you in the bar talking to Izumi, it just clicked that you'd be perfect. That Miyako had stolen gas from you was sheer coincidence."

He wondered vaguely _when_ the sisters had talked about this behind his back, but figured they had their own ways of silent communication that were alien to anyone else. Siblings often had that sort of thing going on. He just never did because he and Jun were more for telling each other things outright than doing anything that could be misinterpreted. It was all too easy to misinterpret things that were left unspoken.

In the end, he agreed to be their witness and share their story with as many people as he could. It was a good story, and better than the wild rumors barflies usually spun because it was true.

.*.

The late-night partying that usually followed festivals didn't end until well into the small hours of the morning. Takeru and the Izumis turned in around midnight, with Tentomon taking up guard duty in case any of the drunks managed to break past the bar's locked doors. Patamon took advantage of the opportunity to be with his own kind and joined Tentomon so they could talk about things only other digimon could really understand. Orimoto laid claims on Koushiro's guestroom, so Takeru was stuck with sleeping in the fold-out futon/couch that occupied the common room. He didn't mind it too much, and it did feel very nice compared to the nights he'd slept with only a sleeping bag between himself and the hard ground. He was out like a light as soon as he settled in.

He dreamt of a world where no one really died and everyone was reborn. He dreamt of a brightly-colored and cushioned ground, of Elecmon and Patamon tending to the babies in their cribs. He was eight years old again, and building a castle out of painted blocks that came in various shapes was the most interesting thing in the world to him. Triangle goes on top of the cylinder to make a tower. This was his world, and he was content.

Another little boy came up to him when he was setting the rectangle blocks sideways to make castle walls. The boy, an unfamiliar figure with dark hair and violet eyes, sat to watch him build. Then, with a bit of encouragement, the boy picked up a cube and placed it inside his castle walls. They built the castle together, in a kind of harmony that didn't need words. It was peaceful and quiet until-

"Once upon a time there was a goddess," the other boy began, picking up a yellow crayon to hold it upright. "She was very beautiful. She was the sun, Amaterasu. One day, she got so tired of Susanowo's noisemaking that she retreated to a cave and sealed herself away." The boy placed his yellow crayon inside the castle's keep. "Without the sun, the world was sad and everything started wilting." Crayons of different colors were set up outside the castle, leaning up against the rectangle blocks so that the boy's hands were free. "So the other gods tried to get her to come out. They sang good stuff about her, but she wouldn't listen. They tried to give her presents, but she wouldn't take them. Then they got an idea. Why not show her that they were happy without her?" A white crayon was taken out this time, but the boy kept it in his hand and held it before the keep. "One of them started to dance and the others laughed. The laughing got Amaterasu's attention, and she poked her head out in curiosity." The boy took the yellow crayon out of the keep and held it to the white crayon. "The gods dragged her out and made her join them again." Then the yellow and white crayons were placed with the others outside the castle.

Takeru blinked curiously at the other boy. He opened his mouth to say something, but the other boy started talking again. "But what if Amaterasu didn't want to come out of her cave? You can't force someone to do something they don't like and not get them to hate you. Couldn't the other gods just make another sun? There are plants and animals that live in total darkness."

"But we need the sun," Takeru found himself saying. "Lots of things would die without it."

"Lots of things did die without it, Takeru, but life manages. Even when it all seems hopeless, life goes on." The boy rose to his feet and turned to walk away. "Just keep in mind that you shouldn't force anyone out of hiding. Forcing things like that leads to explosive results. Very explosive."

Takeru called out after the boy in an effort to get him to come back and explain, but the boy and the little green digimon that joined him soon disappeared from view. With a sigh, Takeru too rose to his feet. When he looked down for a last look at their castle, he found that it had collapsed upon itself. How-

"Takeru! Wake up!"

Someone was shaking his shoulder urgently. He cracked open an eye to take in his surroundings and attempt to figure out why he was being awoken. Moonlight that only faintly illuminated the sharp outlines of inorganic machines suggested that he wasn't in his usual environment. He could just barely make out Koushiro's features in the dark. The thinly-veiled fear in his friend's face was enough to set off a few alarm bells in his head and he forced himself to wake completely.

"I'm not a very good shot," Koushiro said as Takeru started pulling himself out of bed and threw on some clothes. "So when you're ready, I want you to take my rifle as a precaution."

Once Takeru had his clothes on, he found a semi-automatic rifle pressed into his hands. "Er, what's going on?"

"Tentomon and Patamon saw a group of five people break in and sneaked up to warn me. They would have attacked, but-" Koushiro paused to take a deep breath and calm himself. "They're the men of fire, Takeru. One badly aimed Petite Thunder and this place would go up in flames. There's a fire escape accessible the kitchen, we can take that to get out of the building and lure them to a place where Tentomon and Patamon can attack. Orimoto's on her way down."

No more encouragement was necessary for Takeru. He and Koushiro ran to the kitchen and out the sliding doors that led to a small landing and stairs. Orimoto waved at them from the alley between buildings, with Tentomon and Patamon in her company. She had her own sidearm from the looks of it, and the moment they reached her, she released the safety lock. "Buon giorno," she whispered, her green eyes alight with the thrill of the chase. "Hope you're all ready to go."

"Lead them to the airport." Koushiro's voice was so soft that it was just barely understandable. "Nothing grows out on the tarmac and the only people who live there are just far enough away north that nothing they have will catch fire. I'll stay just long enough to make sure the map is okay and follow you. Tentomon, go with them."

They all gave slight nods in agreement and rushed out in front of the bar. Orimoto fired off a shot that was angled to merely nick the brick wall, but the noise was enough to grab the invaders' attention. They waited long enough for the invaders to catch view of them, then ran with Orimoto in the lead, Tentomon guarding the rear, and Patamon clinging to Takeru's hair and shirt. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he considered it a miracle that he didn't have any bald spots.

Something nagged at the back of Takeru's mind as they raced to the airport. Why were these men of fire targeting Koushiro's bar? Didn't they target entire settlements instead of one person? There had to be a reason-

_"Never tell."_ The memory of Takato's voice came, unbidden, while he was toying with the subject and following Orimoto's lead. _"The men of fire will come to get us."_

Takato must have known about them. Koushiro did know about them. But perhaps neither were a threat to whatever powers were behind them. Most people thought Takato was crazy, and Koushiro wasn't likely to spread information about them until he had all the facts. But if they did perceive Takeru as a threat, what had he done? What did they think he would do?

They came upon the decrepit airport as the sky began lightening with the yet-unseen rays of the rising sun. Shelter was found behind the landing gears of a decaying old air bus, and they waited.

"Our orders said nothing about chasing kids," a rough-hewn voice groused through some sort of air filter in his suit. "This is stupid."

"No one is supposed to know about us," said another as the group passed by. This voice was female. "We eliminate those that do know about us or render them incapable of sharing their information. Let's just kill them and go home. They're just kids. Disposable."

Takeru glanced at Orimoto and Tentomon, who were hiding behind the landing gear closest to the group. She glared back, as if what they said had angered her. Then, as he thought about it, he realized that they may have been more responsible for what happened to traumatize Takato than he had previously suspected.

"We should've gotten rid of that one kid when we had the chance," a third muttered dourly. "If he retained any information about the base, being crazy wouldn't stop someone from taking him seriously. Want to bet that virologist just let him go? Kids stick up for each other when they have a good enough reason."

_They **were** responsible for Takato._ He recalled the terror in Takato's eyes when he had asked about Amaterasu's Cave, and how Yuuji once treated the man for taking on an alternative personality to cope with whatever had happened there. He had little idea of what really happened to Takato there, but that these men of fire might have been responsible and had even said that people like Takato were disposable... That kids were disposable...

There were times when Takeru could see nothing but red, when the world fell away and he _had_ to destroy a great evil so that no one else would be hurt. This was one of those times.

_"... One badly aimed Petite Thunder and this place would go up in flames..."_

The invaders in their silver suits stopped and turned when they heard the dulled clap of hiking boots on asphalt. They might have wondered why there was a very strange creature pulling furtively at the young man's shirt and why it was ignored, but that was wholly unimportant when the young man was bearing upon them with a rifle. He stopped just out of range of their flamethrowers and took aim.

.*.

For the first time in fifteen years, an aircraft began rolling out the tarmac and bore down upon the runway. Daisuke cheerfully flailed his arms in hopes that the Inoue sisters could see that he was there and still watching. Horus began accelerating on his wheels, then almost hopping as he caught enough speed to take off. With the first rays of the rising sun, he took to the air. The ascent was as graceful as it would have been under the hands of truly experienced pilots. Even though Daisuke hadn't known the sisters too well, he was proud of them. Not everyone could master old world technology with no teachers but books and simulators.

It was when the engine noise faded into the distance that Daisuke smelled something that most certainly was not jet exhaust. Something was burning. Flesh. His good mood took a nose-dive as he looked around to find the source of the smell. The oily black smoke that was far too reminiscent of the last days of the Apocalypse rose from someplace to the south, near the air buses. Whatever had happened, it must have been while he was out near the runway and waving to the Inoues, and the engine noise would have easily masked any explosion. Were there any survivors, he would have to get there fast.

Daisuke had run out to the tarmac and followed the pillar of smoke until the sight of burning bodies made him slow down. His pace slowed to a tentative walk when he spied familiar figures near an air bus. Orimoto Izumi had her eyes fixed on Takeru, as if she couldn't quite tell what she was looking at. Izumi Koushiro was sitting next to a huddled Takeru and whispering something that Daisuke was too far away to hear. A giant insect (Tentomon?) and Patamon looked as if they were trying to reassure Takeru. Takeru himself was staring into the fire.

"What the _hell_ happened," Daisuke couldn't help but blurt out. Really, he had been gone for a night and all hell had broken loose!

Orimoto Izumi looked up, and appeared almost grateful for the intervention. She hesitated for a moment and glanced back at Koushiro, who only gave a slight nod. Once she had taken a deep breath, she turned her back to the burning bodies to talk to Daisuke. Her voice was kept steady despite the visible strain on her face as she fought to maintain that stability, and she told him about the events of the night. She told him Koushiro's theory about the men of fire, the break-in at the bar and the chase to the airport, then about how Takeru had faced them, said that what he was doing was for Takato and all the lives they'd taken, and aimed at the flamethrower tanks.

That was what stunned Daisuke. Couldn't Takeru just disable them or something? A good shot to the arm would keep them from firing back, but at least they'd still be alive. It was... Just... He never thought Takeru had it in him. Maybe Takeru had acted without thinking? Daisuke did that all the time, but at least he never hurt anyone in the process and he certainly hadn't killed anyone.

Let alone five people.

With a sigh, Daisuke scrubbed his face with a palm as he tried to figure out what to do. While he wasn't very good with people, he could at least try. From the looks of it, Takeru hadn't really expected to kill five people either. Maybe that was something he could work with.

"Hey Takeru?" Daisuke frowned when he realized that no response was forthcoming. "Why?" Still no response, and Koushiro was giving him an inquisitive look now. "I mean dude, if you wanted a barbecue, we could have gotten an ox or something." Takeru's eyes looked as if they were starting to regain focus or something. "No offense man, but barbecuing people went out a long time ago." Now Takeru started glaring daggers at him. Great! "I think that's because there's so much bad stuff in humans that we taste horrible. Yeah, you're better off with an ox."

"Daisuke," the other man ground out from between clenched teeth, "shut up. You're not being funny."

A quirky grin appeared on Daisuke's face, despite his attempt to suppress it. "Well yeah, genius. I wasn't trying to be. I was trying to get you out of 'woe is me' mode."

Takeru stared at him in an attempt to figure out what he was going on about, then sighed and brought himself to his feet. "Good job on that, at least."

"Great. Now can we get away from here? I have the coolest story to tell you all, and it's better told somewhere with clean air and seats that aren't so hard." Daisuke gave his friend a quick pat on the shoulder and led the way away from the fire. He could talk to Takeru later and learn what had really gone on, but now he just needed to get away from here.


	5. A Night In Gethsemane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ken sends Daisuke and Takeru to the lair of a deranged cult leader with access to a dangerous amount of firepower. Escape may be a lot harder than they thought.

When push came to shove, Daisuke was a very forgiving person. Once he got the whole story out of Takeru and why his friend reacted the way he did, Daisuke didn't give the incident another thought. With a good deal of the world emotionally scarred in much the same way and no one professionally trained to help anyone else deal with it all, there was little else to do but forgive and forget. The other option, obsessing over it and festering, didn't suit Daisuke at all.

Part of him wanted to go back immediately to Iwakuni after the Nagoya trip because he thought it would be better if Sora (the closest thing to a counselor anyone in the new world could come to) had a long talk with Takeru and helped his friend get over the guilt. Then, when they were ready to hit the road, Ken radioed in and decided to send them out on a rescue mission. Apparently there was some really bad crap going down in Gifu and one of the outside informants got herself caught by a cult leader who occupied at the old 10th Army Division Camp. While that had worried him, what alarmed him more was the name of the informant: Inoue Momoe. Any reservations he may have had soon dissipated. Izumi had a head start on them and probably would have been caught too in the effort to deliver the sisters' message.

So, despite the misgivings brought about by the vague nature of Ken's request, they headed north, into the island's interior. As an extra precaution, they parked further outside of town than usual to hide the land rover and gave Patamon his share of rations in case they were kept for long, and walked into an eerily deserted settlement. The place felt like it had been abandoned for only a year, suggesting that everyone had moved out. Then where was Momoe supposed to be? What were they going to do?

The unspoken question was soon answered while they were poking around the small greenhouse that Ken said used to belong to Momoe. While there were recent signs of occupation, there were even more recent signs of a struggle. Several pots laid shattered on the greenhouse floor, their contents strewn about underfoot and a few tomato plants trampled by heavy military boots. Daisuke noticed the tension in Takeru's jaw as they took in the damage and wisely said nothing. They stepped around the damaged plants to see if they could find any other clues, something to pinpoint who was behind this.

It didn't take too long to find that out, for at least a dozen people marched into the greenhouse behind the two. The volatile nature of the situation was all that kept Daisuke from rolling his eyes in disgust. Of _course_ it was a trap. He and Takeru turned slowly, hands up in surrender, to see a tanned man with the build of a brawler step up from the troop.

"Welcome to Gifu. I'm Genki, and I'll be your host," the man announced with what Daisuke suspected was the world's smarmiest smirk. Maybe it was just him, but people who sneaked up and pointed guns at him were really, incredibly annoying.

Daisuke didn't have much time to dwell on the subject, even if he was inclined to do so. They were "escorted" outside and down several roads for over an hour. Genki, apparently the cult leader responsible for Momoe's disappearance, kept trying to pry out the Rocky Country's real name from them. He and Takeru remained silent the entire way.

.*.

Takeru couldn't remember where he heard it, but an old Western saying came to mind. Walking a mile in someone else's shoes, or something along those lines. Was this how Kai had felt in his final day? Angry, helpless, but willing to die to retain his secret? He may not have liked the isolationist attitudes of most of Iwakuni's population, but their leader wasn't crazy and didn't ring the sort of alarm bells in his head that Genki did. Ken didn't have prisoners rounded up and stuffed into gyms or whatever this holding area was.

A quick survey of the area suggested that it was an indoor training place of some sort, like a gymnasium but without the trappings of school-age sports teams. There was a set of bleachers set against the far wall, and a fold-out table and chairs set from which armed men made sure no one could escape. People huddled together upon and around the bleachers, some of whom hadn't washed up for weeks, and there was no other option but to join them.

With a grunt of frustration, Takeru settled on a clear space on the lower rows of the bleachers to go over his options. The only way out was through the guards, and they had guns. He could reveal Iwakuni's real name and location to save himself, but to give their captors a bigger arsenal would probably prove fatal to a lot of people. Since no agreeable choices were available at the moment, he would wait.

While he was busy going over his lack of options, Daisuke had gone and found Izumi and a bespectacled girl that Takeru suspected was Momoe. The three talked in hushed tones over in a quiet corner and were apparently oblivious to the fact that a guard was eyeing them warily. Upon closer inspection, they looked fairly happy to see each other. Must've been Daisuke's doing.

Time passed sluggishly. Having nothing to do meant that there were no distractions from his own personal demons. His mind touched upon the events of the morning before and shied away for a moment, only to return to the subject a few seconds later. The memories waited patiently as he flitted around them. The men of fire deserved to burn in the flames that had killed so many people before, yet part of him struggled with this attempt at justification. _They were known to burn entire settlements_ warred with _all life is fragile and precious,_ which then conflicted with _some sacrifices have to be made for the greater good_. What was he supposed to do?

Patamon had tugged at his shirt in an attempt to draw his attention away from the men of fire and out of his rage, but he was too far gone. The visages of those men of fire behind their protective faceplates only barely registered when he was focused on taking revenge for Takato and all those settlements, but now that he had time to think back with a clear head, he wondered why their appearances didn't make him think twice.

One of them had grey hair.

Not for the first time, Takeru was forced to re-evaluate what he believed was true. Everyone he came into contact with believed that all the adults in the world had died in the Apocalypse. However, more and more signs started piling up suggesting that this belief wasn't entirely true. Iwakuni Base tried and failed to keep out the virus, but perhaps other strongholds succeeded. What he had learned from Takato and Koushiro suggested that the men of fire were most likely from Amaterasu's Cave, so if there was a man over thirty in their lot, then the virus must not have hit there. Therefore, he concluded that if his parents were there, they _had_ to be alive. But why were the people of Amaterasu's Cave waiting so long to come out of hiding? Did they even plan to do so? What would be their intentions?

Vaguely he was aware of Genki's thugs stomping into the gym, but he paid them little attention until he heard the screams of people being yanked from the crowd and shoved outside. One of the thugs came up to grab the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. With the wrong end of a semi-automatic rifle digging into his spine once he steadied himself, there was nothing to do but follow the five other prisoners as they were all marched to a fenced-in courtyard. The prisoners were lined up in a neat little row for the firing squad to target, but instead of being placed amongst them, he was sent to the side. His felt slightly ill when he realized that he would be witness to pointless executions.

Off to the side, where Takeru was sent to watch from, was a woman with fairly plain features. Her dark hair was pulled back from face with little diamond-encrusted barrettes that had little worth anymore. Shadows haunted her equally dark eyes, as if she had been witness to many previous executions. Her bejewelled, almost old world appearance suggested that she was probably the mistress of the man in charge, which implied that she may have some sway over Genki. It was worth a try.

"Can't you stop this," Takeru hissed at the woman. Of all the people he had seen in charge here so far, she seemed to be the only one with a heart.

The mistress turned despondent black eyes to him. They looked a little too bright, as if she was ready to cry. "If I could, we wouldn't be here now. What Genki wishes is law here. Please don't fight him."

As much as he would like to snap at her for being spineless, Takeru held his tongue. The woman probably had good reason to be scared.

The man in question practically swaggered into the courtyard, pausing every now and then to give a friendly nod to whomever he passed. It gave Takeru only a tiny sliver of satisfaction when Genki had to tilt his head up to look Takeru in the eye.

"Hey there, how are you," Genki began in just the sort of tone of voice one used for small talk. Takeru was sorely tempted to smack that self-satisfied grin off the man's face.

It took every ounce of control Takeru had to keep his voice as neutral as he could. "Could be better."

"I'll see about making arrangements." The man gestured at one of his thugs, who stepped forward to shove Takeru behind the fence and lock the gate. Once he was secured, Genki strode in front of the firing line and grinned as if they were all just there for an afternoon snack.

"Now then, here at Gifu, we do things a little bit differently. Play by the rules and no one gets hurt." Genki stopped in front of the first person in the line, a woman who looked worse for wear that Takeru didn't recognize. "I'm Genki, and I'm going to ask each of you a question. Ma'am, do you believe in God?"

The woman sneered at that. "I don't believe in gods. No god would let all our parents die."

A dip of the hand from Genki and a crack rent the air. The first woman collapsed to the ground as her fellow prisoners cried out in horror. Appalled, Takeru was unable to do anything more than cry out with them. Despite all his efforts, the chainlink fence would not let him break through.

Genki moved on to the second, an underfed man, and smiled. "Sir, do you believe in God?" The wide-eyed man nodded with a fervor born of fear. "Then pray to Him. Pray that He will save you from this mess."

Takeru's stomach felt like it was doing its best to tie itself into knots. No words could come to his mind to fully fathom how incredibly _wrong_ this was. From the look on Genki's face, it looked like the bastard was actually _enjoying_ watching that starved little man stammer his prayer. Then-

"Wait, repeat that last bit," commanded Genki. Any enjoyment on his face had been replaced by annoyance.

The man gave a pitiful whimper and did his best to comply. "'Save m- me, Jesus.'"

Another dip of Genki's raised hand and a thug fired again. Two of the prisoners, clearly twins who couldn't have been much more than toddlers at the time of the Apocalypse, clung together in renewed fear. Genki smiled kindly at them, making the teenagers shiver. "Boy, do you believe in God?"

The teenaged boy gave a single, nervous "Yes."

"Pray to Him."

With a shudder, the teenaged boy fell to his knees and shut his eyes. "Please help me and Ai get out of here, God. Please save us, Genki."

Now Takeru's stomach lurched and threatened to toss out his breakfast as he watched a beatific smile spread across Genki's tanned features. Genki's hand rose again, but instead of dropping to signal another shot, he placed his palm on the boy's forehead.

"Then you are Saved, my son. You will work for the Clans, aid them in their tasks, and spread the word that Genki is merciful to those who believe in Him." One of the thugs stepped up to the boy's side. "Now rise and go with my servant."

The teenaged boy's attempt to rise was awkward at best and his knees threatened to give out, weakened as they were from the stress the boy was going through. His eyes darted to his sister, who gave him a nod so slight that Takeru had only barely caught it. A wave of relief swept over the boy and he allowed himself to be escorted to the side. Genki moved on to the boy's sister.

"Ai, is it? Do you believe in God?"

Ai swallowed for a moment and bowed her head in what appeared to be reverence to anyone who might not have noticed that silent something that passed between her and her brother. "Yes, I do."

"Pray to Him."

The girl's voice wavered deceptively as she spoke, giving her words the illusion of growing faith. "I pray to you, Lord Genki, to show me mercy and allow me to join Mako. I'll do whatever you wish."

Genki beamed and placed his palm on Ai's forehead. Apparently he was completely taken in by her act. "Then you shall join your brother and share his sentence."

With a parting bow, Ai went with her escort and the twins were taken away from the holding area. As much a relief it was that they got away unscathed, Takeru couldn't help but be sickened by the whole affair. There was still one prisoner on the firing line left.

When Genki turned his attention to the remaining prisoner, a rugged-looking man with a beard that suggested pure Ainu lineage, the man didn't wait for Genki to ask before he spurted out, "Lord Genki, I pray-"

Genki's hand rose again, silencing the man, and he turned his attention to Takeru. "Where is the Rocky Country? I tried asking that Inoue girl, but as it turned out, she just didn't know enough to be of any help."

Takeru clenched his teeth in anger at the question. Of _course_ that was what this demonstration was all about. He wasn't willing to let this _psychopath_ have such valuable information, and his defiance was clear on his face.

Genki gave an exaggerated sigh and returned his attention to the Ainu man. "Well, sorry about that. Sometimes God just doesn't answer every prayer. I'm sure you'll understand."

The hand dropped again, and a third shot rent through the air.

.*.

Daisuke flinched again as he heard the last shot. He would have been crawling up the walls with his anxiety, but Momoe and Izumi reminded him firmly that it was best for his health if he stayed put. In the nest of a crazy man, there was no telling what he could do. Frankly, he hated it.

During their discussion, Momoe told him everything. How she had become an outside informer to the Rocky Country (she didn't know its real name and Daisuke thought it best not to tell her) and that she usually met with Jun to pass along information. How she had found out about Genki's rise to power and why few people went against him. Genki had the firepower to force the Clans (really just a fancy name for the raider groups) to recognize his strength and agree to his leadership. They all thought he was crazy, but so long as he had the muscle, no one was going to challenge him. How they had eventually caught her and tried to beat out information she didn't have from her hide. Oh yes, and there was no way out.

It rather felt like a lead ball was being dropped into his gut each time he heard a gun go off, leaving him to wonder if Takeru had been the unfortunate recipient. His companions offered no reassurance, as they too knew that to do so was pointless in the face of such uncertainty. Tensions were high as they waited.

Eventually Takeru was escorted into the holding area and he slumped against the wall behind the bleachers, then slid down slowly until he was seated on the floor with his knees drawn up and arms folded over them. His eyes took on that distant, almost blank look again. Daisuke's brow furrowed slightly in concern as he settled next to his friend and travel companion. Izumi and Momoe, sensing that the men needed some space, settled together nearby.

"Hey Takeru? What happened out there?" He kept his voice low to prevent catching the attention of the guards. When Takeru didn't answer, Daisuke mulled over the options. He could try a bad joke, but somehow this felt much worse than the events of the previous day. And what could he rile Takeru up with when he had no idea what went on to put him into this state? Well, shit. Daisuke hated waiting, but he did so anyway. There really wasn't any other option.

Evening approached, and with it came supper. The captives lined up at a foldable table, where bowls of soup and rice were passed to each. When Takeru didn't budge and Momoe chose to stay behind and watch him, Daisuke and Izumi opted to fetch food for them. The two joined the queue with the expectation that their friends would be fine for the moment. Daisuke decided that he really should stop expecting things.

A scream from Momoe, unusual in itself because she was a quiet woman, caught their attention. They snapped back to see a big bear of a man grab her by the arm and drag her bodily from the bench on which she had been sitting. Takeru reacted faster than they did. He leapt from where he had been sitting and rammed all his weight into the man's midriff. Undoubtedly surprised at the sudden reaction, the man toppled to the floor. Daisuke and Izumi could do little more than stare in astonishment as Takeru straddled the man and began slamming his fists into the man's face. The man's arms flailed helplessly.

Dammit dammit dammit!

Daisuke raced to the scene with Izumi close behind. He _really_ didn't want to do this, but any more of that and the bear-like man would probably suffer severe brain damage or something. He steeled himself and lashed out to deflect Takeru's fist. It fell hard on the floor, and Takeru's gasp of pain made him wince. He didn't give Takeru another chance to react, taking advantage of the moment to pull his friend off the bear-like man and onto his feet. The moment Takeru's weight was off of him, the thug hurried away.

Takeru shrugged Daisuke off the moment he came to his senses, and Daisuke was more than willing to let him go once that distant look disappeared. Without a word, he went back to his spot and paid no attention when Izumi sneaked up to Momoe's side.

"Dude, what happened out there," Daisuke felt the need to ask again. He settled cross-legged in front of his friend and waited for an explanation. "You're gonna have to talk sometime."

It took several moments for Takeru to finally gather his thoughts enough to talk. "Crazy guy with a god complex. Killed two people for not praying to him. Released some twins when they prayed to him for salvation. Asked me for the location again and shot a third when I wouldn't answer. Told me to think about it after they cleared away the bodies."

Daisuke winced. He'd never been a religious person, and it was kinda hard to be one when he watched his own parents die before his eyes, but some things were just plain _wrong_. What Takeru said was just on so many levels of wrongness that he doubted there was a word to encompass the notion. "Sorry, man. Seriously."

Takeru said nothing to that. There just wasn't anything to say. Despite his admittedly unwarranted attack on the thug, hushed conversations resumed as if nothing had happened.

"So," Daisuke began when the tension became a bit too heavy for him, "what's the plan?"

Several long moments passed as Takeru mulled over his options. His knife had been taken and he couldn't get to the hunting gear he left with the rover, so there was no way he could go up against armed guards. Guards were rotated at regular intervals. There was no way out except through the guards. "I can't come up with one."

A brief frown of frustration passed over Daisuke's face at that, but he refrained from mentioning his disappointment. He had counted too much on Takeru to find a way out where _he_ couldn't, and that was more his fault than Takeru's. "So, I guess we just wait? See if an opportunity comes up?"

"Might as well."

They didn't have much waiting to do. When night had come and they were all attempting to sleep, a group of thugs marched into the holding area and prodded them none too gently with rifle barrels. Takeru glared up at them.

"Genki wants to see you. Both of you," one of the thugs growled, and Daisuke could almost hear Takeru bristling nearby. He briefly contemplated yanking the gun away and trying to go back to sleep, but that wouldn't have been the best thing to do. So, he followed Takeru's example and dragged himself up off the floor. He worried briefly about leaving Izumi and Momoe behind, but they seemed to be able to hold their own well enough.

The two nomads were marched outside and across the compound's courtyard. Daisuke wasn't all that familiar with places like this, but he was pretty sure one of the buildings with lots of windows was the barracks, and that other building with no windows and broad doors was probably a warehouse or something. They paused briefly at a well-guarded building that was probably the apartments for commanding officers, then allowed entrance by the posted guards. While he paid little attention to the hallways they were being escorted through, he did notice that Takeru's eyes kept darting around. Probably trying to find an escape route. It was a futile effort, however, because there were too many armed thugs and only two of them.

They stopped before another guarded door and were once again let in after a brief pause. Some of the thugs remained behind, while the other three told them to wait in the living room and went on ahead. It was a very well-furnished living room, with gilded mirrors and paintings, plush armchairs and exquisitely carved tables. This was Genki's apartment.

Something _moved_ then, startling Daisuke to the point of nearly jumping out of his skin. With all the shiny, glittery crap around, he had easily overlooked the woman sitting in one of the armchairs. All her jewelry, make-up, and the elaborate kimono could have passed her off as an oversized doll. Dolls don't move on their own, and they certainly don't rise out of chairs to bow.

Takeru spoke first, as if he had met the woman before. "You're-"

"Noriko. I know who you are. Both of you." A humorless smirk crossed her face. "Genki's rival has a price on your heads."

It took Daisuke a moment for him to realize what she was saying. The only person in considerable power they had pissed off (so far) was Ruki, and Genki seemed to want the same thing Ruki wanted from them. Oh, just great. Before he could open his mouth to verify his thought, Takeru decided to talk again.

"You didn't look like you enjoyed watching that display earlier," Takeru stated, as if there was no question about it. When Noriko's breath caught in her throat, Daisuke realized that she must have seen the executions too. "Why do you stay with him when you know it's only encouraging his actions?"

"He wasn't always like this," the mistress said in a voice so firm that it was clear she was withholding more than she planned to reveal. "Genki was different when he was younger. Years ago, I had collapsed on a mountainside, almost dead from starvation. He found me and took care of my needs."

Daisuke couldn't stop himself. "So you're with him because you owe him?" If it was true, it wouldn't be unusual.

A brief smile ghosted across Noriko's face. "Not at first. He'd always felt he was meant for something greater than himself. He organized some of the warring Clans and got them to work together. He got this place up and running. It takes a great man to do that kind of thing." She ignored Takeru's snort of disgust and continued. "But then... It had been building up over time. All the praise and power got to his head, and when he saw a priestess holding congregation one day, everything clicked. He wanted the kind of power she had over her flock, but he went about it his own way."

A glance at Takeru's face surprised Daisuke, but he refrained from putting his foot in his mouth by asking about the glower. Yeah, he knew this whole thing was sick, but scowling about it wasn't going to help. "But this," Daisuke paused to gesture vaguely around him, "you don't believe in?"

"I have power, jewels, comfort, basic human necessities. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy having them. But no, I don't believe in his current methods."

Tense silence followed her statement. Daisuke really couldn't fault her for wanting to keep her privileges, even if his friend was simmering nearby. He just didn't understand why Takeru was being so touchy today. That was probably something he'd have to ask Sora when they went back, because he had a feeling that Takeru wouldn't tell him anything. Go figure.

Genki sauntered in then, followed by his well-armed thugs. He carried with him a strange box with switches and unlit LEDs, never letting it go even when he settled onto the couch near Noriko's chair. Daisuke could distinctly feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise in nervousness as the thugs stomped up behind him and Takeru.

"Now, we have a problem here." Genki gave his mistress a quick, quite assured smirk. When she answered with a faint half-smile of her own, he returned his attention to the nomads and continued. "How about a deal? You tell me where the Rocky Country is, I'll tell you anything you want to know about the other factions out there. The Army For A Pure Japan, the Niigata Shogunate, the Empire of the Sun, the Ainu, Osaba, the Rocky Country, Amaterasu's-"

Takeru visibly straightened at the mention of his quest's subject, but before he could say anything, Genki spoke again.

"Heard of them, have you?" Genki looked downright pleased with himself. "A few years ago they were active, but something stopped them. No idea why. Then they started coming out again. We thought they were going to target us for a while, but by some miracle, they turned their eyes elsewhere. Just as well. My spies say they want to bring back the old world, but no one knows for sure. Your turn."

It took every ounce of willpower Daisuke had to keep from squirming in discomfort. If it was just him, he wouldn't have given away anything about Iwakuni. He wasn't so sure about Takeru. Takeru's obsession with his quest was unhealthy, and with that kind of temptation dangling before him... Bah. Daisuke reminded himself that Takeru _knew_ better that to give in, because no matter what Genki may have been like years ago, the man was a psychopath _now_ and Takeru wouldn't unleash that kind of evil on their base.

Takeru's voice was strong, and as clear as if there was no question about where his loyalties lie. "Sorry. No."

A frown passed quickly over Genki's face, but it was soon chased away by an expression of outright apathy. "Oh, well then. Do you know what I'm doing here?"

"Killing people for your own sick pleasure," Daisuke blurted out. "I heard about your demonstration."

Genki gave him one of those tolerant, practically condescending smiles that made him want to smack the man. "That was simply to set an example.

"As a child, I knew I was capable of great things, but there were always other people in the way. I wanted them to go away. Then, miracles of miracles, they did. Every single one of them. I wondered why. So much death couldn't have been just because of me. So I came to the conclusion that the gods were dead and someone else must rise in their place."

Daisuke's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. Was this guy really deluded enough to believe that _he_ was a god? A chuckle escaped his lips before he could stop himself. "So, now _you're_ God? I dunno, man. I always thought the gods could turn into animals and stuff, or had blue skin and multiple arms. _Can_ you turn into an animal?"

The man's eyes narrowed at him, but that was all the indication he gave of his annoyance. "Not right now. Think of all the prophets that started out small. Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, Zoroaster, Buddha. They spread their beliefs, created miracles, gathered followers. The only difference is this: I refuse to wait until I'm dead to be worshipped."

"And just how does slaughtering innocent people come into play," Takeru finally ground out.

"All throughout human history, the most effective method of converting people has been at the point of a sword. The Crusades, Jihads, Blood Libel and Holocausts. The deaths of heathens by expanding empires. Believe or die." The false prophet beamed at them then. "Which brings me to my next demonstration.

"This is an old Army base. Like any former U.S. military base it has munitions, guns, generators, gas. Something to know about the former United States of America: they liked to give their bombs funny names. The Little Boy, Fat Boy, Daisy Cutters, so on and so forth. Here, we have a hundred Tallboys. They're not nuclear, but still capable of taking a good chunk out of the ground." Genki turned to his mistress, unaware of the growing horror in her eyes. "Remember that problem we had with Ichinomiya? That town nearby? They just wouldn't convert. It's a shame, because I could use about five hundred new believers. Let's turn on the TV."

One of the thugs moved forward to press a button on the television placed before the couch, where everyone had a good view. It flickered on and gave them all a look at a sleeping town a kilometer or so from the camera. "I warned them that if things just don't go well for me tonight, the Hand of God would smite them. Pity."

Any amusement Daisuke could have taken from the man's delusion was quickly shoved aside by shock. He was faintly aware of Takeru lunging forth in an attempt to grab the box, only to be caught by one of the thugs. Another came up behind him and pinned him before he could try repeating Takeru's stunt.

Genki hummed a little tune to himself as he flipped a switch. The TV's screen lit up like some nightmare of the old world as the bombs detonated. In the dark of the night, horrible orange and white flowers bloomed with the blood of half a thousand people. The false prophet revelled in the sight. "Just beautiful, isn't it?"

.*.

In the dark hours before dawn, a lone woman laid awake. Her eyes were fixed on a clean, speckled ceiling. Were it not for the turmoil in her soul, she would have felt perfectly peaceful.

Noriko had always thought of herself a clever girl. She was no genius, true, but she had enough wits about her to take advantage of the opportunities that came to her and sensed well enough when it was best to get out while she could. Of course, there were times when her wits were blinded by her emotions and she didn't know when to move until it was too late. She had clung to the memory of what Genki used to be like so tightly that she ignored what was really going on. Perhaps next time would be better and he would remember, and if that didn't happen, she assured herself that there was always _next time_.

_Next time,_ she realized at last, would probably never come. How many more must die while she waited for next time?

The slow, steady breathing of her slumbering lover made her resolve crumble bit by bit. Part of her still wanted to believe that he would return to his old self again, but she could no longer count on that. She could assassinate him, but another would take his place. Only two Tallboys had been taken out of the armory, but there were still so many left. To leave those in another psychopath's hands was to let even more people die. She had to go through with it.

An hour later, Noriko flitted through the hallways with the grace and silence of a ghost. The black dress and too-long fur coat did well to hide her cargo from the bleary eyes of the guards. They let her pass, never suspecting her betrayal, and it wasn't long before she found the agents of the Rocky Country.

The blond one looked up warily at her when she approached. "What do you want?"

"Get everyone out of here," she whispered. Much to her dismay, his eyes searched hers with considerable suspicion. It was to be expected. She bowed her heard slightly in acknowledgement of his discomfort and opened her coat to reveal her cargo. They had been so heavy, but the hiss of appreciation from the two agents brought a brief smile to her face. Two fully loaded MAK-90s were strapped to each shoulder, and a small collection of sidearms was tied to her belt. "Will this be enough to help?"

"I'll say," the darker one muttered. He gave her an inquisitive look. "Need help offloading?"

Golden light was beginning to stream into the holding area now, as the sidearms were passed around to anyone capable of using them and impromptu plans of escape were made. Something ached within Noriko as she watched the proceedings, but she reminded herself once again that it was necessary. The Genki who had saved her so long ago was no more. It would be better to remember that.

As the prisoners surged forth, led by the agents of the Rocky Country, Noriko drifted further and further behind. She wanted to go with them, but it was not her place. Not anymore. The mistress drifted from shadow to shadow, her ears perked to pick out the sounds of the ensuing battle. The roar of personnel carrier trucks suggested that the plan had succeeded. Now for the part of the plan she had never told anyone.

Full morning light streamed into the hallway leading to the armory. She knew that Genki would pass through here in the rush to a vehicle to follow his most important escapees, and paused when he stopped before her. Her arms cradled the remote detonation box as she strode in front of a window. Mascara streaked her face, even though she smiled almost lovingly at Genki. In her elegant dress and sparkling jewels, she was a fragile reminder of the old world. She could just barely speak around the lump in her throat.

"Salva nos, Domine."

.*.

The sudden blast of almost a hundred bombs detonating at once lit up the sky. He had taken charge of driving the first personnel carrier while Izumi took on the second, and even with his inability to drive without looking at the road it hadn't been hard to miss the sky lighting up behind them. Takeru understood why Noriko had disappeared after passing out the guns and he knew why she didn't follow, but it didn't make her certain death any more palatable.

He slowed to a stop just outside of Gifu, close enough to where he had parked the rover and far enough from the blast zone, and got out of the cab. He was soon joined by Daisuke, who stumbled out of the back of the truck. From here on out, the trucks would belong to the former prisoners until they chose to sell them. Izumi stopped nearby to get out as well.

"I'm going to Ichinomiya to see if there are any survivors. Momoe's going to take over driving my truck and I'll be taking on yours," Izumi said quietly. She looked fatigued. None of them had gotten any sleep, not after seeing that first display. Takeru doubted any of them would sleep for a long while. "Momoe talked to some of the other captives on the way here and they came to a concensus about the trucks. They're going to give the trucks to the survivors to sell off. If there are any."

Takeru gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod in response. He didn't feel like talking, not after the sheer hell of the past night. He just wanted to curl up in his bed at Iwakuni with Patamon and try to forget it ever happened. Izumi frowned at him slightly, but it seemed to be out of concern instead of irritation and didn't press on the matter. Thankfully. He didn't think he'd be in control of his reactions if she did. He was ready to turn and head to the rover when Daisuke spoke up.

"Hey, uh, Izumi," Daisuke queried in a delicate tone of voice that rather surprised Takeru. "Did you get to pass on Chizuru's letter?"

Something tugged at the corner of Izumi's lips. "Yes, before Genki's men barged in. Momoe was delighted to hear from her sisters."

Daisuke relaxed, unaware of how tense he had been throughout this whole ordeal. "Great. Can you tell Momoe the story? I'd like to, but we're heading back."

"Volentieri, Daisuke. I hope you two reach your destination safely." That _something_ turned into a brief smile. "I'm sure we'll bump into each other again."

"Say, what does that mean, anyway? I've heard you say it before."

"It just means 'gladly.' Here's another bit of Italian for you: arrivederci. It's like your good-bye."

Despite himself, Daisuke grinned. "'Arribeideruchi?' Close, right?"

"You just need some practice. Maybe later?" At Daisuke's nod, Izumi climbed into the cab of the truck Takeru had abandoned and waved her goodbye. It didn't take long for Momoe to follow her example and they soon drove towards the remains of Ichinomiya.

He found Takeru at the rover, with Patamon snuggling up to his partner in reassurance. As unwilling as he was to interrupt their comfort session, they all needed to return to Iwakuni as soon as possible. Well, he could wait until Takeru was ready. It was the least he could do: just wait and be there if he was needed. Things would get better. Daisuke was certain of this, because things really couldn't be any worse than what they had witnessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like using original characters unless there's no one else to take up the role, so you won't see more than a handful of named original characters here. Genki is a very obscure character and hails from the Wonderswan game "D-1 Tamers," where he and his friends bullied Ryo.


	6. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisuke finally meets V-mon, and Jianliang has a few talks with his informant.

In light of the past few weeks, Daisuke found a renewed appreciation for Iwakuni Base. Things here were sane while the rest of the world danced on the edge of chaos. Jun worked from nine to five as Sora's assistant and was on call as the "welcome girl," a job that was really more of a hobby for her than anything else. Breakfast was at eight in the morning, lunch was at noon, supper was at seven in the evening. Allowances were made for those who worked at night, wanted a snack, or did not adhere to the standard schedule, but it was really nice to be around such _normality_ again. Better yet, now that he and Takeru had made their report and that disk Takeru had picked up somewhere was turned over to Security, they would both be allowed to take two weeks off should Daisuke be able to bond with a digimon partner as time for adequate training.

Daisuke's train of thought stopped at that, then backed up to run over the notion again. A _real_ digimon partner. He had been prepared for this for awhile, but the appointment kept being put off by bureaucratic red tape and Ken's prodding to get them to cover as much area as possible. He wondered again what the digimon would be like. Would it be like Patamon, cheerful and innocent? Or would it be like Jun's Penmon, unobtrusive in formal situations but friendly and outgoing amongst her friends? Well, he would just have to wait and see. There really wasn't much else to do, especially with Takeru off somewhere doing who knew what and Jun stuck in some meeting. But after the meeting, Jun would take him down to the Digimon Room.

A quick grin spread across Daisuke's face as he stared up at the ceiling from his bunk. He just couldn't wait.

.*.

There was a certain power in knowing all the political views in the council, who supported what, and what weaknesses they had to exploit. Steel grey eyes drifted over the men and women that made up the council, and Iwakuni's head of security checked each of them off on his mental list of powers at play. The Isolationists, followers of Osamu's doctrines, were led by Hida Iori. He was one of the original Iwakuni children, brought in by the same man who brought the Ichijoujis. Most people didn't pay the quiet man much attention, but his knowledge of the letter of the law was formidable enough for him to register as a potent power in the council. Iori's day job was something along the lines of a legal consultant. Jianliang's older sister, Jialin (she headed the military training), was spokeswoman for the neutral faction that mostly just agreed to anything that was best for the base itself. Then there were the Sympathizers, the people who looked to the outside and actually wanted to make the base known to the world and help out. They had never been very powerful, and their spokesman was a rather indecisive man named Aoyama Taizou (a hydroponics maintainer), who wasn't particularly interesting enough to be useful for much of anything. Of all the factions, the Isolationists had been the most powerful of the council.

At least, they would have been content to be alone until Ken himself started looking to the outside. Ken's logic was sound: we need to know anything that transpires outside so that we can be prepared should the other powers out there decide to declare war on us. Everyone agreed to that, so he was allowed to set up agents to spy on those other powers. As the years passed, Ken started playing with the idea of helping out those who were worse off than Iwakuni. It was a concept that would not sit well with the council, but Ken had managed to share his views with enough of the agents loyal only to _him_ that very little of his scheming leaked out. Jianliang knew, of course, but he knew everything that went on in his home. After all, it was the only home he had left.

It was because Iwakuni was his home and he didn't want to be kicked out that he covered for Osamu's transgressions, and then Ken's. However, he hadn't tampered with the energy output reports for the month, occupied as he was with his friend's company. His innards were twisting themselves in a knot of worry as Sora stood up to read them. There was just the slightest of frowns as her eyes passed over it, as if she had found that Mrs. Makino's chamber was the real cause for the energy drain. Shit.

"... Due to some damage taken in the last storm, our solar panels are absorbing 15 percent less energy than normal. With the council's permissions, I would like to authorize the repair and activation of the unused solar panels on the south side." Sora's eyes met his and lit up with a secretive smirk that didn't quite reach her lips. She knew. She knew and was covering up for Ken too. Jianliang's guts finally decided to unclench. "I believe that is all for my report. Voting will be held at the end of the meeting. Naomi?"

A minuscule sigh of relief, masked behind his folded hands, was the only indication Jianliang gave that he had been tense about questioning Sora's loyalties. He paid little enough attention to the mechanic's report, having already heard it firsthand before the meeting. After all, he did make it his business to know whether or not all the machines were in working order.

After all the voting was done (Sora's request was approved, several others were denied, and Jianliang made a mental note to keep an eye on Iori), the council dispersed and he made a bee-line to his quarters. Terriermon could wait, this couldn't.

Occupying his quarters, namely the couch, was his informant and closest friend. The travel-worn man had nodded off to sleep at some point and was probably going to develop a crick in his neck if he stayed in that sitting position for long. Jianliang honestly regretted having to wake his friend up, but he reached out and --

The man's eyes snapped open and flashed red for so brief a time that Jianliang was sure he was seeing things. He withdrew his hand as his friend blinked at him blearily. Must have been just his imagination.

"Just a few questions," Jianliang began, "then you can go collapse in my bed."

An amused glint appeared in his friend's eyes at this. "One would think that you _enjoy_ having leeches like me in your bed."

"You overestimate your leeching abilities." A slight half-smile tugged at a corner of Jianliang's lips. "But on to business. One of the new agents, Takeru, came across a database file containing potentially dangerous information. What would you suggest?"

The informant's brow furrowed in thought. "If the file is from whom I think it is, delete the relevant information. You'll know how to make it look like it hasn't been tampered with."

"As you wish. Now, what of--"

"Biding his time. Their time. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were. No danger yet, but we need to keep Ken from finding out. You know what will happen if he does." Sadness shadowed the man's eyes for the moment. "I hate lying to Ken, but it's necessary."

Jianliang could identify with that, at least. How many secrets could any of them hold for the sake of other peoples' well-being? "Oh, yes, and Sora knows about Mrs. Makino. I'm not sure if that would change anything, but you should know."

The informant gave a brief nod and the shadows in his eyes passed. "It will be good for both of them, but won't change the chain of events. Was there anything else?"

"For now, no."

"Then I have a favor to ask." The informant's eyes took on a distant look. "Takuya of the Shichup Ainu has gotten himself captured by a branch of the Army for a Pure Japan. It'll look good for our alliances if he was saved by Iwakuni agents. You'll know who to send."

"I have just the team in mind." Jianliang offered his hand to his informant, not entirely trusting the man's ability to get up right now. "But first, you're going to bed."

Blue eyes peered at Jianliang's hand quizzically, as if it was a oddity in a museum, until his mind finally identified it for what it was. With a shrug, he reached out and let the other man pull him out of the couch.

The double agent really did more running around than was healthy.

.*.

Sora's office was as tidy and welcoming as Takeru had expected it to be. Warm light came from a frosted glass desk lamp and was caught up in reflections and refractions of the water that bubbled down the tiny rocks of a desktop fountain. Scrolls of mountains-and-mist scenes done up in a distinctly Chinese style graced the walls. It was as if the entire room was decorated to act as a haven of tranquility. If Takeru understood the rumors correctly, the effect was probably intentional. Well, if he and Patamon were to wait here until the council meeting was over, at least they could enjoy it. There was something hypnotic about watching that fountain.

Takeru had been so caught up in watching the fountain that he didn't notice Sora and Piyomon slip into the doorway. He looked up when he realized that they were there. "Nice trick. Do it often?"

" _I_ don't have to do anything." Sora gave him a brief smile before she settled into the high-backed chair behind the desk. "The decor does it for me."

Patamon beamed from his perch on top of Takeru's head at Piyomon, whose eyes twinkled at him from her own perch on the back of Sora's chair. It was comforting to be in Sora's presence again. She practically glowed with the aura of a caretaker.

"Now, before we begin, I want you to know that I'll be available to talk to any time you need me." Sora's voice was soft, reassuring. It made Takeru wonder how many others she had played therapist to. "In the event that I'm not here, Jun or Jianliang will know how to find me."

After a brief nod from Takeru, Sora continued. "Now, according to Daisuke's report, certain events occurred that may influence your future performance. He didn't say anything more than that. Want to talk about it?"

A quick surge of annoyance at Daisuke's interference was soon smothered by the realization that his friend was most likely just trying to help. Takeru sighed. "Do I have to talk about it?"

"It would be better for you to get it all out than let it fester, but talking about it is entirely optional." Sora's features softened briefly. "It's a harsh world out there, Takeru, and sometimes you just have to do whatever's necessary to survive. I'm your friend. I could never judge you."

"As I understand it, you've never been too far from the base," he muttered with just a hint of cynicism underlining his voice. "How could you fully understand what goes on outside?"

The softness left Sora's eyes. "I don't have to experience it firsthand to know what the world outside does to people. Every agent that has ever had a traumatic experience has come to me to get it off their chest. Shall I tell you of them?" When Takeru didn't respond, her lips pressed thin in thought before she finally continued. "Ten years ago a boy came from the outside. He survived the raider slaughter of his settlement by killing the boys who were going to kill him. He did it to protect his younger sister. In his time as an agent, he had had to kill several more times to protect our secrets. He didn't talk much about it, but he said that it helped to know that I would be there to forgive him. You've met him before."

Huh? Takeru raked his mind in an attempt to figure out who Sora was talking about. He had run into other agents in passing, but time was usually tight and everyone ran on different schedules. It had always been a bit difficult to socialize with them. "Sorry, I've no idea who you're talking about."

"That's confidential. Sometimes he would come in and say nothing, but he found comfort here. That's what I want to offer you: comfort, understanding, and perhaps resolution. If it would make you feel better, we _can_ just sit here for awhile and stare at the fountain." A glimmer of a smile turned up on Sora's face. "That's what it's here for."

The light glittered off water that cascaded down a pebbled path made to simulate a brook. It made his own turmoil seem so pointless that he was fairly certain that the effect was wholly intended. He _knew_ Sora wouldn't judge him, but sometimes it was just so hard to sit and talk. However...

"Well, this is how it started..."

.*.

"Before we continue past this point," Jun announced in that authoritative air she usually took on during her tours, "I'd just like to point out that not everyone finds a digimon partner. We have yet to figure out why some people can bond with a digimon and some can't, but I thought you ought to know."

Distracted by the size of the doors leading to the Digimon Room, Daisuke was only partially aware of what Jun was saying. They were huge! The doors could easily tower over Miyako's Hawker. Maybe the room was once a hangar or something like that.

Jun stopped beside him with an amused expression that went unnoticed. The silent penmon beside her mirrored her expression. "Believe it or not, this used to be where we kept the bombs."

"You don't anymore?" He turned his attention from the massive doors to his sister's face. "What happened?"

"Eh, it happened before I came here." Jun's brow furrowed in the effort to drag out the memory. "Rumor has it that Osamu studied history far beyond what was taught in schools. He was a genius, so that's not really surprising. Anyway, he said that he remembered seeing photographs of the victims of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings in World War II, and they were just so horrible that he refused to be responsible for repeating such atrocities. So, legend says that he studied up on bomb construction and then went into the room one night and didn't come out for days. When he finally did return, all the bombs were disarmed. Some people even say that the bombs disappeared completely."

A renewed sense of respect for Iwakuni's founder welled up within Daisuke at this story. It would have been so easy to follow Genki's example of using bombs to get his way, but that child genius had gotten rid of the bombs to keep from repeating history. It was a shame that the boy was dead. At least Ken seemed to follow his brother's mindset when it came to wielding power.

"'Too many people have died already. It is ludicrous to maintain an arsenal capable of killing off the rest when all we really need is just enough munitions to defend ourselves from outside assault.'" Jun looked rather pleased. "That's what Sora told me once. It's something Osamu said during his first few years as Caesar. I wish more people understood that."

The Ichijoujis, Daisuke was quick to learn, were very good men. At least, from what he knew of Ken and all the rumors about Osamu. However, he was here to meet the unbonded digimon, not talk history. "So, how do we go in?"

Jun was already a step ahead of him. She slashed one of those key cards through a reader on the right-hand side and waited as the great metal doors yawned open. It almost reminded Daisuke of his first encounter with Iwakuni, with the exception of what waited at the end of a much shorter tunnel. The room was really more of a brightly-lit atrium, with dark tents for nocturnal digimon and pools for the aquatics. Near the entrance was a desk occupied by a lone teenaged girl with auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, whose attention was more on the manga in her hands than the visitors.

Undeterred, Jun trotted up to the desk while Penmon waddled over to greet a pair of digimon that looked like twin rabbits with different coloring. "Shaochung! Hi! How are the kids?"

"The digimon? They'll be the death of me," Shaochung bewailed with a melodramatic flourish. She even placed her hands over her heart for emphasis, then returned to her original posture behind the desk. "So, what can I do ya for?"

Jun turned to yank her brother over to the desk and slung her arm around his shoulders. "This is my brother, Daisuke. I think you were told that it's time to see if he'll bond with a digimon."

Mischievous brown eyes turned to size him up, making Daisuke wonder if she was planning to throw him to something big and nasty for fun. "Hm. Maybe a floramon?" Shaochung grinned. " _Someone_ needs to bond with a floramon. I swear they're planning to bury me in pollen the moment I'm not looking. How do you like flowers, Daisuke?"

"Ew." His nose scrunched up at the thought. Flowers were okay, but he was a guy and flowers were really more of a girly thing. "Maybe a dinosaur?"

Shaochung giggled and grabbed onto his arm. "Sometimes you don't have a choice and the digimon chooses you. So we'll take a little tour. Lopmon, Terriermon, think you can protect the desk?"

"I shall do my best, my lady," the brown digimon stated solemnly. His cream-colored brother was less formal. "No problem!"

The girl beamed sunnily at the two digimon and dragged him along as she chatted up a storm. A quick glance back at Jun revealed that she was quite willing to leave him to Shaochung's hands. Oh, great. The girl was probably one of those people who dressed up pets and younger siblings and made them sit for tea parties as kids. "Now, first thing you've gotta know is that there are several levels of evolution: first baby form, second baby form, child, adult, perfect, ultimate. Thing is, no one has managed to get past adult in years. Something about being away from the Digital World for so long affects their energy levels."

Daisuke stopped abruptly. "Wait, energy levels?"

"Digimon require certain amounts of energy to evolve." Shaochung's voice adopted a vaguely lecture-like tone as she went into detail on the subject. "The higher they go, the more energy it takes. They _can_ acquire energy from food and sleep, but that only serves for very minor things like fueling their special attacks. It's faster for them to evolve if they have a bonded human partner to absorb trace amounts of energy from, but unbonded digimon _are_ known to evolve on their own. Oh, and don't worry, you never notice those trace amounts. Any other questions?"

When none was forthcoming, she dragged him along again. For the next half hour she talked about types and attributes. To the question of alignments, she gave an unbiased theory on virus types and why they were more prone to turning evil. She believed that it was because they were naturally inclined to greater passions than vaccines and datas; and because all passion was inherently selfish, a tendency towards placing personal desires above all others was par for the course. Vaccines had more of an orientation towards altruism, and as such were given to selfless causes. Datas were usually neutral. She stressed that it was just an observation of hers and not all held true to this, but it made a lot more sense to Daisuke than Takeru's 'Viruses are evil and Vaccines are good' explanation.

During this crash course, she waved to one group of digimon or another, and they glanced up at him hopefully. But try as he might, nothing really clicked. He felt a bit bad about it all. There was a little purple version of Patamon (Tsukaimon, Shaochung offered helpfully) that he was sure would be perfect as company for Patamon, but he felt nothing. Maybe that red version of Penmon (Muchomon) would be suitable too, since it looked like his sister's digimon, but again he felt nothing. Maybe he wasn't suited for a digimon? That was a rather disappointing thought.

As they neared the end of the tour, a blur of blue barreled into his legs. Literally. He tripped over the mass of blue and would have landed face-first into the nearby numemon pen had Shaochung not grabbed hold of his jacket collar and yanked him back to regain his balance. "Hey, what the-"

"V-mon, really!" The girl scowled slightly at the little blue digimon he had tripped over. "You know better than to attack the visitors."

Big red eyes set in a blue and white reptilian face looked up at Daisuke in a mix of confidence and hope. "But he's my partner! I can feel it!"

Something Daisuke couldn't quite describe fell into place, a feeling that had been missing in all the other digimon. V-mon felt _right_ somehow. The biggest, and probably silliest, grin in the world crossed his face. "What he said. Hi, I'm Daisuke."

"'M V-mon! Nice to meet ya!" V-mon's grin echoed Daisuke's own as he stretched out a hand in greeting. As Daisuke clasped it, all felt right in the world.

At least, it did until Shaochung reasserted her presence and reminded them that it was time to start training.

.*.

Power makes a man suspicious of everything. This was a lesson that Ken had learned well over the years, especially when it came to the factions of the council. He was painfully aware that he was granted his position out of collective respect for his brother; and if he showed weakness, he was doomed for a takeover. It was only natural for him to suspect his chief of security, who had been set into that position by Osamu. The only reason he hadn't replaced Jianliang with someone who had undisputed loyalties was because the half-Chinese man was too damn _good_ at his job. Better to keep Jianliang in his station than risk whatever may come of dismissing the man.

It was with a certain amount of trepidation that he listened to Jianliang's report on their agents' successes and failures. The Gifu Base had been destroyed. Finally. That still left a disturbing number of other military bases unchecked, but there was one less psychopath on the playing field. He made a mental note to send a few teams out to the other bases. Niigata's shogun was expressing interest in expanding but not yet doing anything about it. Queen Ruki was still trying to find them, but wasn't successful. The Army For A Pure Japan was on the warpath again, a thought that made Ken vaguely queasy. He had mostly ignored them because they had never really organized well, but now they had apparently captured an Ainu caravan with the intent of execution. Amongst the list of names he didn't recognize was one that stood out like a sore thumb. Takuya.

When pressed on the matter, Jianliang admitted that with the exception of Takeru and Daisuke, all of the other agent teams were too far away from base and wouldn't get to the execution site in time. This left Ken with a bit of a dilemma. If Daisuke had bonded with a digimon, he would be mired in training and paperwork for days, and the purist Army wasn't going to wait for him. But then, Ken himself had never been very far from the base perimeter. Perhaps it was time to come out.

"Thank you, Jianliang," Ken said after a long minute of contemplation. "Please notify Takeru that I would like to speak to him. Dismissed."

The head of security gave a terse nod and turned sharply on his heel to stride out of Ken's command center.

In the solitude that settled in when Jianliang left, Ken's thoughts swirled around the subject of what the hell he was going to do and what he could get away with while avoiding the watchful eyes of the council. Like any good game of chess, he would have to strategize his moves carefully. Wormmon would come up to him ever so often to ask if he needed anything, but he paid little attention to the queries in his plotting and Wormmon went back to sorting through paperwork.

Takeru and Patamon, at least, had the good grace to turn up while Ken's thoughts were winding down and settling into a workable plan. He gestured for them to take a seat and did not speak until Takeru finally gave in. Stubborn man.

"Welcome. Had Jianliang mentioned anything about why I called you here?"

Takeru's lips pursed thin at the question, suggesting to Ken that the man didn't much enjoy dealing with the head of security. It was an understandable dislike, and Ken chose to file that observation away in the portion of his mind dedicated to figuring people out. "No. He just said you needed to talk to me."

"I see. Very well, then. There is a matter of great urgency that I need an agent to attend to. Given that all the other agents are too far away from the site in question, I'll have to ask for your help." Ken gave the blond man a long, cool look. "That is, if you're willing to work without Daisuke for this particular mission."

"I'd like to know what it is before I commit to anything," Takeru pointed out.

Ken folded his hands on the desk in front of him as he settled in to explain. "An Ainu caravan has been captured by a branch of the Army For A Pure Japan and are scheduled for execution in the morning. They're about twenty kilometers west of here, so it's not a very long ride. Amongst the captives is a very important man named Takuya, and while he is a pyrokinetic and can usually fend for himself, his power is unstable in such circumstances-"

"Wait, 'pyrokinetic,'" the blond man had the audacity to interrupt. Ken calmed himself with the reminder that proper etiquette was almost nonexistant in the outside world. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"He can start fires with his mind, yes. I can go into an in-depth explanation on why he's able to do so and how, but that would take more time than I'm willing to allocate to the matter right now. Suffice to say, he and his caravan must be saved before the morning." Ken had to steel himself for what would come next. He was too used to giving orders, but Takeru just wasn't one to take them well. "Would you be willing to help me?"

Takeru stared at Ken as if weighing his options. Finally, after several excruciatingly long moments, he gave in. "If I have help, sure. I can't take these guys on alone."

Iwakuni's leader straightened in some amount of personal pride. "You won't have to. I'll go with you, if you can keep it quiet."

This time, the silence was longer and Ken could almost swear the man was silently laughing at the thought. He was ready to bristle when Takeru spoke again. "Well, sure, so long as you don't turn to dust or anything if sunlight hits you." 

Part of Ken really wanted to be offended at that, but to be fair, it was a bit amusing. It was a frequent joke among the other agents. Ken hadn't been seen outside in so long that people wondered. Refreshingly different too, because most people didn't even try to bring that joke to him. "Sunlight isn't really a problem with sunscreen and shades. It's the garlic and crucifixes I have to look out for."

.*.

Night was fairly chilly, especially when Takuya and his group were being held in some chainlink cage in a _barn_. He really wanted to get a campfire started up, but people were too close and he was worried that if he tried, someone would catch fire.

One of the Ainu "elders" had told him once that he had been blessed by the spirit of Fire and that was why, if he really concentrated, he could start fires with nothing more than his mind. It started shortly after he had been adopted by his people, but before the Wanderer's group returned to Hokkaido. He had been sick at the time and a fever dream came to him. He didn't remember the specifics, but he did remember a very tall, red-armored man standing before him, saying something, and then they _merged_. After that, he woke and found that the campfire had been extinguished over night and then he wished for it to come to life again. It did.

All things considered, his people had been remarkably supportive about it. No one made a big deal about his skill, but they knew and that was enough. He knew that it would be mistaken as something evil by those who were not as accepting of spirits as many Ainu were, so he kept his use of it to a minimum.

That didn't stop him from wanting to roast the racist idiots who thought it a grand idea to grab his caravan and kill them all as some sort of "example" to the rest of the Ainu. He hadn't really paid attention to the rant by their leader other than the "example" bit and just when his people were going to be killed off. It was a shame that they were too crowded for him to start a fire safely.

It really wasn't fair. He knew that the Ainu had been marginalized for centuries before the Apocalypse came, he knew that there had still been trace elements of racism against them, but in light of how much his adopted people had contributed to the survival of the rest of Japan after the mass deaths, it just didn't make sense. He'd have thought anyone would have been grateful for the help, but some people just have to hate those who are different. Not fair at all.

Takuya had been busy with these thoughts, along with vague fantasies of heating up the ground under the racists' feet to the point of making them hop along comically, when a smoking canister appeared out of nowhere and landed near the drowsy guards. Thick grey smoke sent the guards running outside, leaving the cage abandoned.

Incensed by the obvious rescue attempt, Takuya rattled the cage's door to get the attention of whomever was trying to save them. A fairly tall man with clear European ancestry (that was encouraging, since the Army For A Pure Japan had a vendetta against white men too) trotted up to him.

"Hey, can you get Takuya for me? I need to talk to him." A white man who spoke Japanese perfectly. He probably had at least one Japanese parent. Oh, but the racists hated mixed blood.

Despite the situation, Takuya chuckled. Convenient. "That's me."

The white man looked relieved. "I'm going to break open the door. Get your people to follow me, then set fire to the back of the barn. Can you do that?"

Takuya gave a brief nod, turned to wake the few who were actually asleep, and passed the word along to follow the blond man. Some muttered quick thanks to the gods, others hurried them along, and they all filed out of the cage until he was left behind.

He had work to do.

Dry hay lined the barn floor and piled up against the walls. Perfect tinder. He fixed his eyes upon a particularly promising batch and concentrated on heating them. Speeding up molecular movement until enough heat was generated to start a spark. It grew into a lick of flame, which would soon become a roaring bonfire. He ran out before the fire could catch up to him, stopping only when he knew he was outside and watching his people climb into the back of a personnel carrier truck.

His jaw dropped when he recognized the smirking driver as Ichijouji Ken. Of all the things he'd never expected, seeing Ken outside the safety of Iwakuni was up near the top of the list.

.*.

Three in the morning in Iwakuni base was blissfully quiet. The night staff kept to themselves and everyone else was asleep. It made sneaking his friend around easier.

The Wanderer, as his friend was known in certain circles, was staring off into the distance. It was as if the man was absorbed in some inner conversation that no one would ever be privy to. Jianliang wondered at this, but did not ask. Either his friend would tell him eventually or he would figure it out on his own.

In time, the distant look in his friend's eyes disappeared. "God says that the Spirit of Fire is free." The man turned his attention to Jianliang. "I should probably go now, while Ken is out. Could you drop this off in Daisuke's bunk for me?"

Jianliang looked down at the blue and white D-3 in his friend's hand. "Isn't that-"

"No, never. It rightfully belongs to Daisuke." A bittersweet look crossed the Wanderer's features at the admission. "Lucky bastard."

He said nothing as he took the D-3 and the note attached to it, slipped it into his pocket, and mentally worked out just where Jun had placed her brother. Same corridor as her own quarters, five doors down.

The Wanderer rose from his seat on the couch and gave him a quick half-smile. "I'll go. Don't tell anyone about this little trick?"

"Really, when have I ever shared anyone's secrets," Jianliang stated lightly. "You know I won't."

"I know. See you later, Jen. Thanks."

His friend closed his eyes, muttered something under his breath, and was gone. Literally. No flashing effects, no trace scents in the air, nothing to reveal that he was ever there.

With a sigh, Jianliang turned to exit his quarters and find Daisuke's, all the while trying to puzzle out what it was that his friend had muttered. "Chrono" something or other. It was something to ask about the next time his double agent reported to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naomi is another D-1 Tamers kid, who looks rather creepily like Shaochung, but with glasses.


	7. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While visiting with Jou, Takeru learns that the disease that killed the adults fifteen years ago may not be entirely gone after all.

Vacation, Takeru decided, was not exactly as advertised at Iwakuni. He had barely seen Daisuke since his companion found a digimon, ended up playing escort to the Ainu caravan until they were safely past the usual stalking grounds of the Army For A Pure Japan, took care of Piyomon for an hour a day due to some private business of Sora's, got a thorough tongue-lashing from the head mechanic over his treatment of the land rover and proper driving lessons. Naomi, the mechanic, was even starting to threaten to send them out with horses. At least he wouldn't have any problems with gasoline thieves should she choose to follow through with those threats.

All things considered, he was actually looking forward to a new mission. There was only so much of one place he could take for long. After a discussion with Ken (who was lying low for the moment, just in case anyone wanted to ask where he'd been the night they went out and rescued the Ainu caravan), it was decided that he would be sent to follow leads on a man named Teruo. Teruo may have been responsible for the recent rumored outbreak of the virus, but he was on the run from the men of fire and impossible to get ahold of. If he and Daisuke could find this man, Ken was considering sending them to talk to the Niigata Shogun. He wondered faintly what kind of drug Ken was on, but said nothing. None of it was set in stone anyway, so it wasn't worth worrying about. It didn't conflict with his plans to follow Kai's journal until he could find his parents.

First thing first, he had to find Daisuke and explain the situation before they headed off again. This apparently meant going up to someone with security clearance to get into the Digimon Room, a task that was starting to prove fairly difficult. He wondered _why_ such security measures were needed, but chalked it up to another quirk of Jianliang's paranoia. And that, of course, brought him back to the subject of Jianliang. A man he didn't particularly like, understood less than he did Ken, had never seen act remotely human, seemed to have some scheme going on that probably no one knew about, and didn't particularly like him in return. However, there was nothing really _bad_ to pin on the man. They were all products of a world gone horribly wrong and dealt with it in ways that weren't always good.

Speaking of the devil, he found Jianliang himself striding towards him from an intersecting corridor. He reduced his pace to let the shorter man catch up to him.

"A suggestion for the future," Jianliang began coldly, "Ken's position is precarious enough as it is. Do not let him go out again."

Takeru stopped abruptly at the security chief's words. What the hell? "I come into this _how_ , exactly? It's not like I have a say in what he does."

Thin, dry lips pursed at his words. "The man that certain members of the council are grooming to take Ken's place the moment he slips up is not as sympathetic to the world outside. If anything about his late night rescue expedition with you gets out, they _will_ replace him. That is why, when you choose to speak with Daisuke, you must never mention Ken's involvement."

"Why is it so important to _you_ to keep Ken in power," Takeru asked. He did wonder about it, since it looked like Jianliang would prefer to keep Iwakuni isolated.

As expected, Jianliang's features hardened at the question. It was almost imperceptible, but Takeru had gotten good at picking out minuscule details like that. He was a hunter, he had to be. "It may have escaped you in your obsessive pursuit of a pipe dream, but there are greater powers at play in the world than you could ever fathom. Keeping Ken in power reduces the chance of leaving Iwakuni susceptible to attack. As head of security, it is my duty to keep this base safe at all costs. Surely even _you_ can understand that."

It took a moment for Takeru to firmly squash the thought of throttling Jianliang for the insult. He had no idea how the man knew just what buttons to push with him, but he didn't like it at all. "I really don't care what's going on out there as far as power play is concerned. Leave me out of it."

"Of course. Your entire world is focused on finding your parents. But what happens after that? What happens if you find them dead? What then? How do you go on? Where's your purpose?" Jianliang paused before a set of massive doors to pull out a keycard. Why wasn't Takeru surprised that Jianliang knew where he was going? "Consider what I said sometime. And, should you still choose to follow through on your pipe dream, be wary of the rising sun."

Takeru froze in his tracks, only to watch the security chief stride past him and into the Digimon Room once the doors swung open. Where had he heard those last few words before? He could have sworn someone else had said the exact same thing to him. But, no matter how much he raked through his memory, he couldn't remember.

It was just as well, because Daisuke and that little blue bundle of energy known as V-mon rushed up to him. The good thing about Daisuke, at least, was that he inevitably managed to lighten the atmosphere around him just by being there.

"Takeru! Hi! Haven't seen you in a while! How are things going with Sora? Where's Patamon? Did I introduce you to V-mon-"

... Of course, the energy was a bit overwhelming at times. "Wait, do you _want_ me to answer, or should I just wait until you're finished?"

Daisuke gave an embarrassed grin. "Er, sorry. It's been awhile, y'know? And Shaochung and Jun are-"

"And me," V-mon piped up cheerfully.

"Right, and V-mon." Daisuke beamed down at his partner, who mirrored the expression. "They're all really good at keeping up. Anyway, yeah. Answer?"

Takeru had the vague mental image of Daisuke, Shaochung, Jun, and all their partners bouncing off the walls. It was oddly fitting, but he would never say so outright. "Sora is busy, as usual. She's taking care of Patamon right now because Piyomon and Patamon have this long-standing flying competition and she's out for the day. And I'm running on the assumption that this little guy is V-mon."

Ken had mention V-mon during his briefing, and how unusual it was that V-mon had taken on another partner when he had been abandoned by his previous partner. When pressed on the matter, Ken admitted that V-mon had briefly been partnered with someone else years ago, but that someone else had long since gone insane and left V-mon alone. But it wasn't a real partnership, so Ken wasn't particularly surprised that V-mon had finally found a real partner. It was just odd that this partner had come from outside, especially when the previous partner had a hand in helping Osamu. A sign? Who knew.

The little blue dragon stuck a hand out. "Hi, Takeru! Nicetameetcha!"

Bemused, Takeru shook it in greeting. He wondered faintly how Patamon would take to having two Daisukes around, since so far V-mon seemed to act like a miniature Daisuke. Another thought for another time.

"Hey, what _are_ you doing out here," Daisuke queried once his companion released V-mon's hand and straightened. "You don't have training too, do you?"

"Ken wants us to find someone. He's mentioned in Kai's journal too, so we're still on course. We're cleared take off tomorrow. Ready for the outside world, V-mon?"

If V-mon was a dog, he would probably be wagging his tail. In lieu of such behavior patterns, he gave an enthusiastic nod. "Sure thing!"

In the effervescent presence of Daisuke and his partner, Takeru had temporarily forgotten about the fact that Jianliang went into the Digimon Room too. He was reminded of this fact when the head of security strode past him again. This time, however, there was a strange, cream-colored digimon perched on the man's shoulder with a prehensile ear draped over the other shoulder for balance. A teenage girl, Shaochung, followed him long enough to part from the man at the door, after which she and her chocolate-colored digimon waved goodbye. This didn't strike Takeru as particularly weird. What _was_ weird was the way that the tension Jianliang always carried seemed to alleviate when he walked by with that particular digimon hanging on to him.

Huh, maybe Jianliang was human after all.

.*.

Patamon and V-mon got off to a great start, but given that Patamon was friendly to almost anyone who exhibited goodwill to him, it was to be expected. They chatted about everything under the sun and then some as Takeru drove down a cracked old road with a better hand than usual. When asked about it, Takeru abbreviated Naomi's diatribe and the hours he spent with her out in the decoy base to a simple explanation: "driving lessons."

At some point, Patamon asked about the training Daisuke and V-mon underwent. Apparently they were mostly teamwork exercises to get the partners to work together so that in the outside world, it would be second-nature in the rare event that a digimon would have to intervene to save their partner's life. It made some amount of sense to Takeru, but he doubted it would cover for real situations in the Digital World. Just as well, since no one could get into it anyway.

The drive was as uneventful as ever. A random traveler would gaze longingly at the rover, but went on their way. It wasn't a good idea to offer rides to strangers and everyone knew it. Things started to get interesting around midmorning.

A lone woman with plain features and long, mousey hair pulled back in a plait was dragging a wheelbarrow down the road, loaded with what looked to be an unconscious body. When he noticed Daisuke glancing back as they drove past the woman, Takeru sighed and slowed the rover to walking speed to let Daisuke call out to her. V-mon made no fuss as Patamon yanked him under the blanket to hide.

"Hey ma'am? Need some help?"

The woman looked up gratefully at him. "Yes, please. I need to get him to town. He needs to see a doctor."

Daisuke looked befuddled at her words. "I don't know if there are any doctors, but-"

"One without a license," Takeru interjected, "but Jou's better than nothing. Didn't know he was in the area."

"Yes, that's him!" Relieved, the woman stopped completely and lowered her arms to let the wheelbarrow rest on its pegs. "He's going to be in Tsuruga for the week. It's not far from here, but..." Her voice trailed off as the two men got out of the car to load her burden into the rover's bed. "I'm sorry to be a hassle, but thank you so much!"

"We're on our way there too." Daisuke flashed her a quick grin as he helped Takeru settle the unconscious body into a comfortable spot. "Might as well help, right?"

The woman flushed slightly at his smile and looked down at the ground, as if the cracks in the road were the most fascinating things in the universe. "Still, if there's any way I can re-"

"What does this guy _have_? He smells like a part of him is rotting," Takeru interrupted once again. He wasn't keen on stalling when he had a more solid idea where Jou was, and the woman looked like she was the type to try and be polite at the expense of brevity.

"Oh, I found him like this. He hadn't been to market with his oysters for a few days so I thought I'd check up on him. I don't know what happened, but I think he must have gotten hurt and let the injury get infected. I think it's... 'Gangrene' is the right word, isn't it? It's on his left hand, under those wrappings. And he has a fever." The woman looked up at Takeru with an expression more determined than he thought she was capable of. "I'm going to ask the doctor if I can watch him perform the amputation. Please let me come with you."

There really wasn't a way to say no to that kind of request.

.*.

Tsuruga was a coastal town overlooking Wakasa Bay. It specialized in the harvesting of sardines and the breeding of cholera, dysentery, and various other diseases brought about by ignorance towards water treatment. This last bit was a matter of both consternation and distaste for Kido Jou. Consternation because such diseases were deadly if not treated, distaste because such diseases were once restricted to third world countries. Japan had once been so well off that such diseases were a thing of the past, but now it was just another third world country. Just like everywhere else in the world. Oh, the irony. It was a glaring reminder that he was just a hack playing at being doctor, and things were so bad that he was probably the closest anyone else in Japan could come to the title.

Jou was never known to be an optimist, despite the influence of his digimon partner. The digimon in question had flopped out over his horse's withers during the long ride to Tsuruga and wasn't awake enough to tease him out of his mood for the time being. Just as well. He wasn't much in the mood for it anyway.

Fate had a funny way of working out. He had stressed himself so much as a kid because medicine was a family tradition and he thought he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps. This had shaped his studies even when his brothers started drifting away from the family tradition. Then the End of the World came along. His parents had been amongst the first in Japan to fall, victim to the epidemic that swept his father's hospital. Shin followed a few months afterwards due to the isolation of the region in which he was working. Shuu, who had rented a cabin out in the countryside when the disease became a pandemic, knew that he too would fall to the disease, but not before giving the last of the Kidos a crash course in folk medicine and herb lore. His surviving brother saw the big picture and anticipated what was coming. The world that would rise from the ashes of the adults needed someone with at least some training in medicine, and that person would need to learn how to make do only with what was available. There would be no more medical schools or refined anaesthetics, no more high technology or specially trained experts. If Jou chose to follow through with his plans to be a doctor, he would have to work with primitive conditions. Given that there weren't many kids who made an early conscious effort to study for a medical career, that he would have to find a niche in the new society, and that he didn't have many other useful skills, the choice was clear.

Cue Kido Jou, a twenty-eight year old, mostly self-trained hack of a doctor whose knowledge came from books he referred to when he wasn't sure what he was doing. It wasn't real training. He knew this, accepted it, and did his work anyway because he believed he was one of very few people who could. There were others, of course, but many of them either stayed within their own settlements or offered their services to only those who could afford high prices. He didn't believe in such practices, not when there were so many people who needed some sort of medical help. Besides, he survived well enough on donations that he really didn't need to charge much of anything. The black-and-white paint horse, Blackjack, had been an extravagant gift from the Shogun of Niigata for delivering Mimi's child. No matter how much Mimi reassured him that Blackjack was just a gesture of thanks and that he mustn't feel guilty about it, he did anyway. A horse was probably the most valuable gift anyone could give another in this world where old world technology and resources were breaking down or dwindling.

It probably hadn't helped to know that the horse was named after the rogue doctor without a license from Tezuka Osamu's medical drama manga. If nothing else, the Shogun had a peculiar sense of humor. The pack horse, a native Hokkaido Washu named Pinoko, followed a couple of years afterwards as a gift for helping Mimi and her child through a particularly bad bout of pneumonia. He didn't want to admit it, but sometimes it was really good to have friends in high places.

Blackjack slowed his pace as they neared a building that used to be an abortion clinic. The line of people waiting just outside of the clinic looked up at him with hope shining in eyes that had been dulled by years of third world suffering. Jou came by here once a year, usually for the span of a week before going on to the next settlement, but it was never enough.

At the front of the line, not-so-patiently reminding people that there was only one doctor and he wasn't in yet, was a man of stocky but powerful build. Once the man would have been fat, but a radical diet and lifestyle change brought about by the Apocalyptic pandemic had reshaped the fat into formidable musculature. This man had been in danger of dying from several gunshot wounds years ago, operated upon, and followed him ever since. Jou really had no choice but to accept the man's offer of assistance. He never regretted the choice.

Now the horse stopped at Jou's urging, while his assistant tore himself away from the people at the head of the line just long enough to gesture to the back of the clinic. It must have been where his assistant had Pinoko tied down for the day. With that in mind, he nudged Blackjack towards the alley leading to the back, all the while softly reminding a groggy Gomamon to keep an eye on the horses while he worked. He was in for a very long day.

.*.

When the doctor was in town, everyone in the surrounding area flocked to his usual clinic. Not everyone could be treated immediately, but they certainly tried. Many of the better-off people brought gifts that they hoped would win them faster service, and they were usually allowed earlier treatment once the neediest cases were taken care of. Rumor said that the doctor's assistant was the one who insisted on accepting the gifts, but very few thought ill of either of them so long as Jou was willing to treat everyone.

Takeru had been more or less aware of Jou's usual migratory routes, but hadn't actually visited the oldest of the Chosen Children in years. He'd been taught enough first aid and survival skills to avoid having to add his own body to the flocks of people clinging desperately to Jou's tattered coattails. But, given that this visit was a matter of business and that he could probably help out for a while, he didn't feel too bad about turning up.

The queue didn't pay attention to him as he walked past them, fixated as they were upon the large man guarding the door. While Daisuke, Chiaki, and their unnamed burden were placed in line, there really was no reason to keep an eye on a perfectly healthy man with a stuffed backpack wandering around.

If he remembered Jou's habits correctly, the horse would be tied in the back of the building with Gomamon on guard. From there he would be able to get into the building from the back door and into the largest room he could find. It took him longer than it should have to sneak around to the back of the clinic from an alley a couple of buildings away, but it was still early and Jou wouldn't be fully prepared for the crowds until noon.

To Takeru's surprise, there was another horse tied to the rusting old handrail along with Blackjack. More of a pony, really, since the paint horse towered over her by several hands. He really should have kept in closer touch with Jou.

Gomamon, diligent guardian of horses and overall being of good humor, was happy to see him again.

"Hey there, stranger," the aquatic digimon greeted him with an expression that was all too innocent. "If you wanna see the doctor, you have to get in line like everyone else."

Takeru stuck his tongue out briefly before he began to offload the backpack. Some things never changed. "Nice to see you too."

Gomamon sidled up to him as he set the backpack down carefully, with large green eyes gazing at him curiously. "You _still_ stuff Patamon in there?"

On cue, Patamon wriggled out of the backpack to greet Gomamon cheerfully. To Gomamon's surprise, another digimon squirmed out after Patamon cleared the way. Patamon dove into an enthusiastic explanation about V-mon, where he came from, and everything else he could think of while Takeru turned to the horses to make his presence known to them. He fished around a pocket for until he found and drew out a bag of apple slices to feed the horses.

The tobiano-patterned paint horse knew a treat when he saw it and nickered at Takeru. With a slight smile and assurance that the horse recognized him, Takeru fished out a couple of slices and held them under the horse's nose. Blackjack took to them greedily until Takeru had to withdraw before all the apple slices disappeared. The remainders went to the pony-sized horse, who took a little longer to warm up to him. But, like most horses, she accepted the treat and the pat on the cheek that followed afterwards.

With the traditional spoiling-of-the-horse ritual done, Takeru left the two digimon with Gomamon and the horses. He reminded them to behave and went through the back door of the clinic.

After a bit of wandering around and backtracking when he couldn't find what he was looking for, Takeru eventually found Jou in a rather large room with several buckets of water and a few camping stoves. The older man had his back turned to Takeru and was boiling the water in tea kettles. It would have been a comical sight were there any other alternative.

"Hey, Jou," Takeru called out.

Jou practically jumped in surprise and spun around to stare at him. "Could you _not_ try to scare me to death?"

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. "Heard you were in town and decided to drop by. Need help?"

"You don't _just_ drop by," Jou began conversationally once he returned to pulling various sharp objects out of an old black bag. "But if you're up for it, wash up and boil the rest of the water. Oh, and leave the pot uncovered. I need to sanitize my instruments."

Takeru made a brief sound of agreement and began the mindless task of filling tea kettles with water for the gas stoves. As he did so, he spoke. "Well, I did come for information too."

"Thought so. Anything in particular?"

"Hm. Ever hear of a guy named Teruo?"

There was a sharp clatter as something metallic and of a nature Takeru couldn't guess at fell to the floor. He turned, curious, to see Jou stoop down to pick it up.

"Yeah." Jou began fidgeting with the odd instrument, as if the topic was something of considerable distress. Though, considering Jou's usual state of stressing-out, it might have just been a build-up of nerves. "What about him?"

"Well, I'm trying to follow a lead to someplace, and Teruo's mentioned in reference to this place." Takeru watched the older man carefully, and noticed when Jou's face went blank. He _had_ to know something.

They regarded each other for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, Jou put down his instrument and crossed his arms in a clearly defensive gesture. "I'll have to tell you tonight. If I say anything now, I'll probably wind myself into a nervous breakdown. That's not going to be good for my reputation."

.*.

Daisuke tried his best to be helpful. He really did. When the big guy up front asked everyone to organize themselves in groups based on symptoms or urgency, Daisuke went along and guided people to their places in the waiting room once he had Chiaki and her friend settled with the group in need of surgery. Some tried to get into the Immediate Care group, but the big guy grilled them and had Daisuke send them back to their own groups. They grumbled and cursed, certainly, but didn't dare challenge the doctor's assistant. It took some doing, but eventually everyone was where they were supposed to be and everything was ready.

"Hey, Daisuke?"

He had to look up to meet the big man's eyes. With the man's build and a few bullet scars dotting well-muscled arms, he suspected that this man was probably a raider at some point and had gone on his own way. "Yessir?"

"It's Junpei," the big guy said, with just the slightest hint of irritation that was most likely directed at the rabble. "Jou should be about ready now. Can you go get him? Room 125. I'd do it myself, but..."

"Someone would try to get into the Immediate Care group behind your back. Not a problem." Daisuke briefly waved in Chiaki's direction and trotted past the door that separated the waiting room from the rest of the clinic.

Dust caked the floors, doorknobs, and took hold wherever it could. It was thinner along the middle of the corridor floor, revealing prior usage, but it was still painfully clear that no one really took care of the place when the doctor wasn't in town. It was disappointing. There _should_ be more than a handful of would-be doctors, but there just weren't. Maybe he should talk Jou into taking on an apprentice.

Room 125 wasn't that hard to find, especially with the dusty old map set in the wall at the beginning of the corridor. He opened the door and wasn't the least bit surprised to see Takeru and the tall, slender man he assumed to be Jou organizing various metal things on a tray. Shiny, sharp metal things. Daisuke was eternally grateful that he didn't get himself into messes that required anything more than a few days' rest or a bandage. "Hey, Doc Jou? Junpei says they're ready for you."

Jou shot Takeru a long-suffering look before turning his attention to Daisuke. "How bad is it?"

"One case of a gangrenous limb, three women in labor, twenty-seven people with severe diarrhea and stomach cramps-" Jou grimaced at this, "-six people with broken bones, four with bullet wounds, one guy who got poked by a buck, a couple with a fever, five people in need of stitches, someone got his arm chopped off but claims it's only a flesh wound, and that's about it." Daisuke finished with a half-smile that soon faded when he realized his lame attempt at a joke completely flew over their heads. Oh well, so much for lightening the mood. "Oh, and there's this girl who wants to watch you work and see if she can pick up some pointers."

Jou's shoulders slumped slightly. "I don't know. I usually get too nervous when I have someone watching me."

"She says she's willing to work or stay out of the way," Daisuke offered helpfully. "She really wants to be able to help out."

"Fine. Send her in and have Junpei escort the cholera victims to room 130. We'll go from there." Jou almost reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose in a fit of nerves, but stopped himself just in time. It was going to be a long day.

.*.

The air was too old and dry for Chiaki's comfort. She felt like a fish out of water and gasping for oxygen, which certainly didn't help her mood. Her stomach curled itself into a little lump of worry. Daisuke was nice, but she was sure her request would be turned down. That was just the way it was. People always ignored her.

Her eyes drifted over to the pale, sweating people in various stages of dry-heaving. They ignored her when she said the water they drank from was bad, and look at them now!

Not that anyone ever paid attention to those with the Gift. She remembered an old friend being chased out of town on accusations of witchcraft, just because his Gift was over the soil and his farm prospered when others didn't. There was another, a blacksmith, who fled years ago when his Gift for finding and working metals was discovered by a warlord. Her own Gift was over water, but she kept it to herself because she didn't want to be run out of town too. She was certain that there were others, but she'd never heard of them.

As Daisuke returned and started talking to the big guy standing guard, her thumb found its way to her lips and she began gnawing on the nail in nervousness. Bad habit for someone who wanted to be a doctor, but she really couldn't help it.

The big guy strode up to the people who drank foul water and told them to go to a specific room. Some of them stumbled as they went, while others leaned on each other for support. One woman was doing fairly well until a stomach cramp attacked and left her doubled over. She swayed dangerously until the big guy reached out and-

Chiaki muffled her gasp of astonishment when a bright bolt of electricity jumped from the big guy's outstretched fingers and connected with the woman's arm. The woman cried out in pain, startling the doctor's assistant into quickly stepping back. He apologized quickly. "Sorry, miss. Build-up of static electricity. Happens a lot with me. Really sorry." He looked around and noticed Chiaki staring wide-eyed at him. "Hey, you! Can you help this lady into room 130?"

She needed no encouragement. With her heart hammering loudly at the evidence of another with the Gift, she darted to the woman's side and slung the woman's left arm over her shoulder.

Room 130 was stocked with chairs, blankets, futons, two large vats of water, a small tub and soap for washing, and a table with a campsite gas stove, tea kettle, and over twenty glasses filled with clean water set up on it. A large hole was set in the wall to lead to the next room over, granting more space to the occupants. After she helped the woman into a futon and watched the others settle in, the doctor arrived.

He was a tall man, but thin from stress and overwork. Hoping to be of some use, she stepped up tentatively to him. "Good day, sir. My name is Chiaki, and I-"

"You're the one who wants to help, right?" A faintly amused twinkle appeared in his dark, tired eyes. "Are you familiar with cholera?"

"Is it what these people have? I know it was caused by bad water, but..." Chiaki trailed off in embarrassment. Now he was going to think she didn't know anything!

"A bacteria, actually." Thankfully, there was no condescension in the doctor's voice. Just facts, as if he was taking on the role of teacher for her. "It spreads because most people nowadays know nothing of proper water treatment and drink out of the same river they throw their wastes in. The normal treatment would be to prescribe antibiotics and plenty of fluids, but since antibiotics have a short shelf life, what do we have to do?"

"Have them drink lots of water?"

"Exactly. This is because the bacteria triggers vomiting, diarrhea, and cramps. This makes the body lose more fluid than it takes in, which is what can make cholera deadly." The doctor paused then to give her a serious look. "Normally I would just have them boil their own water to drink. But, since you're here, I want you to take care of them. Just give them as much clean water as they need. The bathrooms a few doors down _do_ have working flush toilets for this week courtesy of the mayor, so you won't have to worry about dealing with fecal matter. You'll probably be busy with the tea kettle for a few hours. Can you do that for me?"

Chiaki opened her mouth to protest. Yes, she could do it, but she wanted to do more than just pass around water glasses. But maybe this was a test. She closed her mouth with a click of teeth and simply nodded.

To her surprise, the doctor gave her a weak smile. "If you're up for it later and these people have the bacteria mostly flushed out of their system, I'll be doing some surgical work in the evening. You're welcome to attend."

Chiaki clasped her hands together in a mix of joy and anticipation. _That_ was what she wanted, and he was going to let her watch! But, before she could thank him for the opportunity, the assistant came up to him and pulled him off to more important matters.

But that was okay, because working with water was what she was good at and purifying it didn't take much energy. She just had to filter out the foreign matter and find a place to put them. She could spend the rest of the time wondering about the assistant's Gift and preparing herself to watch real surgery.

.*.

For Junpei, the day passed in a blur. Of course, it always did when Jou felt the need to fix people. It was something he admired about the man: Jou could have easily demanded anything he wanted from people in need of medical care, but he didn't. Hell, Jou didn't even accept donations unless Junpei insisted. He was being practical, of course. Jou needed some sort of payment to live off of regardless of his sense of responsibility to the human race.

It did help a lot that Jou's friends decided to swing by to assist them. They had enough on their hands as it was, and at least this time Jou wouldn't be as utterly exhausted at the end of the day as he usually was. He didn't see much of the blond one, who mostly kept by Jou's side, but Daisuke was a big help with the people. At the end of the day, once bones were set and most people who needed it were stitched up, he slumped gratefully into one of the dusty old chairs in the waiting room.

"Say, uh, Junpei?"

He cracked open an eye enough to see Daisuke hovering over him and practically radiating curiosity. "Yeah?"

"Were you a raider," the shorter man had the gall to blurt out.

It was an unpleasant memory, and he snorted in disgust at the thought. "When I was, we preferred the term 'Clansman.' But I wasn't one in the way you're probably thinking."

"What did you do? I mean, I don't know a lot about the, er, 'Clans,' but I'm curious." Daisuke gave Junpei a considering look and his expression turned sheepish. "Erm, if you want to talk about it."

He closed his eyes against the memories evoked. "You have to understand that when the pandemic hit Shibuya, kids started getting together and forming gangs. You had to join one just to survive. Me, I joined because I didn't much like the alternative. I didn't get involved with the turf wars, though. They just gave me machines and told me to fix them." Junpei's lips curled slightly in a humorless smirk. "I was good with machines. That's the only reason they kept me, because I didn't like hurting people."

Relief was clearly evident on Daisuke's face when Junpei cracked open an eye again. "Oh. Sorry. But I'm glad you weren't-"

"A murderer?" Junpei regarded the shorter man with both eyes open now. Poor, clueless kid. "Not many kids had a choice in the beginning. You didn't go against the Alphas without an assassination plan and a death wish. I was just _damn_ lucky because I had a skill few others possessed. Other kids had to live with gunning down their own friends under orders from the Alphas. Almost glad I got shot when I did."

"Why's that?" Daisuke's voice was quiet now, almost ashamed.

Junpei stretched out his right arm and rolled the faded blue sleeve back to his shoulder. Old bullet scars dotted his arm at random intervals. "Without this arm, I'd be useless. The Alpha knew it and left me to die. Jou came along and worked a miracle on it."

"Are you happier here?"

Junpei rolled the sleeve back down and settled back into the chair. "Much happier. Yeah it's a hassle dealing with people who want to take advantage of Jou's generosity, but ever so often someone comes by with a gift of sugarcane or mochi. It's not as good as chocolate, but I won't complain."

They sat in companionable silence then, only interrupted whenever Jou was ready for someone else to tend to. Eventually they were down to the last few patients: those who were in need of meticulous surgery that would probably go on for hours, the pregnant women, and the recovering cholera victims. With Chiaki's care, the cholera victims were out of danger by the evening and could even hold down light snacks.

Eventually, the inevitable call for help came and Junpei joined Jou in the surgery on the table was the man Daisuke brought in earlier. The man chewed worriedly on a bit of mandrake root, with his gangrenous hand cradled in his lap, as Jou got all the instruments in order. Junpei grimaced briefly. Amputations were never his favorite part of the day. It was gory and gruesome and he hated holding people down, but with no old world anaesthetics, it was a necessary evil.

When Chiaki finally joined them, Jou began with his lecture. Junpei paid no attention to it, familiar as he was with the cause and treatment, and instead focused on the patient. At least the patient was starting to look drowsy now, so the mandrake was doing its job. As the lecture went on, the patient started swaying until Junpei suggested the man lie down. Soon enough, the patient was out like a light and it was time to begin.

Junpei didn't watch the process, even though he held the arm firmly down in case the patient suddenly awakened. It just made him too queasy to watch rotten flesh cut to the bone, which was then sawed off like an unwanted tree limb. Even Jou's explanations as he went through the process made him ill. Something about ligating arteries and veins to reduce hemorrhage, transecting muscles, sawing bone, and drawing skin and muscle flaps over the stump to stitch together like so much cloth. He was very glad he hadn't eaten.

The surgery lasted longer than usual, due mostly to Jou explaining things every step of the way. Chiaki proved to have an iron stomach and was quick to absorb everything Jou told her. By nightfall, it was done.

.*.

Jou welcomed the night. With the exception of the women still in labor (who would probably start squeezing out kids at three in the morning with his luck) and the cholera victims and surgery patients recovering in other rooms, there was nothing else to do. Chiaki wanted to talk to Junpei about some gift or another, Daisuke was playing with the digimon, which left him with Takeru.

He wasn't sure what triggered Takeru's obsessive nature. It hadn't been there when they first met, but he suspected that their shared experiences in the Digital World planted the seeds that led to it. After all, Patamon was the only digimon in their group that had actually died right before their eyes. Sure he had been reborn, but that kind of thing would scar anyone. People dealt with scarring in different ways.

"I don't know what Teruo's surname is," Jou began, since he knew what the younger man was going to ask and he might as well cut to the chase, "and chances are that he doesn't remember either. A few years ago, he came from the north to search out the oldest of us. Those who were just on the onset of puberty when the pandemic hit. He took blood samples and then disappeared for awhile."

"Why's that?"

"Testing a hypothesis, I assume." Jou sighed. He did a lot of that lately. "Thing was, back then I was feeling a bit under the weather too. The symptoms were the same, but they weren't deadly. Just weaker. The hypothesis was that those of us just on the edge of puberty got it too, but because our bodies weren't pumping the full load of adult hormones out, the virus didn't have all that much to hang on to. We survived. Teruo took the blood samples to try and work out a vaccine from the antibodies of us older kids. Do you know what a vaccine is?"

"A dead virus introduced to the body for the system to get used to it and build up antibodies to counteract it, right?" It had been the subject of Ms. Takaishi's last article: experts trying to derive a vaccine before the rest of the world died. It was never published, and Jou only saw it because Takeru handed it to him one day hoping for an explanation.

"Yes, well... Thing is, some viruses remain dormant for years. Teruo got into deeper crap than he bargained for. One of his vaccine attempts ended up introducing the dormant virus into someone who was just a baby the first time around. It mutated, killed the poor kid, and got out. By the time I got there..." Jou closed his eyes and took a deep, stabilizing breath. "By the time I got there, the entire settlement was dead."

Takeru remained silent, though the horror was clear on his face. His jaw worked soundlessly, as if he wanted to say something but was at a loss for words. It didn't last very long. "The entire settlement? Even the... the..."

"Even the children, yes." Jou started rubbing at the bridge of his nose as a nervous gesture. "Which means that if it did get out, isn't just a freak isolated case, and if it spreads out like the first wave did, that's it for the human race."

"...Shit." Takeru looked positively pole-axed as full realization dawned on him. "No wonder you didn't want to talk about it earlier."

Jou gave a brief snort as he held up a mug of calming herbal tea. That was an understatement. "Here's to the end of the world."


	8. Crying Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeru learns of the project that had traumatized Takato and potentially released a new strand of virus, and Daisuke visits his parents' gravesite.

It didn't take a genius to realize that something strange was going on in the world. Even when "strange" was now par for the course, people who could command the elements just didn't exist in the real world. They shouldn't, anyway. But they did, and this gnawed at the back of Takeru's mind. What was going on?

During the extremely late supper with only nut-scented whale oil lamps to light the former lounge, Chiaki brought up the subject of the Gift she seemed to have over the element of water. Junpei's Gift was over electricity, but he could only muster up enough voltage to start up a human heart if he really tried, and that only lasted for a few seconds. Takeru's mind tried to make sense of it, but he couldn't. In the nice, logical real world, this just didn't happen. Only in the Digital World...

He ran back over that thought again. Only digimon would be able to have that kind of skill, right? But Chiaki, Junpei, and Takuya were very human. Why was it that they had this Gift when others didn't? Or maybe there _were_ others, but he couldn't remember meeting any of them.

When the sheer illogical nature of it all was starting to give him a headache, Takeru excused himself from the table and stepped outside for some fresh air. The horses paid no attention to him once he let them know he was there. It just wouldn't do to spook them.

The moon hung full and barren in the night sky. Once he would have fancied he could see a rabbit making cakes on its surface, but he was now long past such childishness. He saw it as it was: a lifeless chunk of rock ripped from the Earth's crust and hurled into orbit eons ago, pocked with vicious crater marks from a time when the solar system was young. Mankind set foot on it decades ago. If Jou's suspicions were correct, man would never go there again.

"Why? What did we ever do to you," he called out in the dark, to something he wasn't even sure existed. Yahweh? Shiva? Aeoina? Ormadz? The name didn't matter anymore. "Yeah, I know we screwed up. Isn't that always the way things go? We screw up and then you kill off all but a handful of us. Then it happens again. Why? Wasn't the first wave enough? Do we all have to die this time?"

The night sky remained impassive, silent. He growled in frustrated helplessness and reached up to rub away the hot, unfamiliar pricking in his eyes. His fingers came away moist.

"God likes it when you ask questions," an oddly familiar voice spoke up from behind him. When Takeru turned to bite the head off of whomever caught him in this vulnerable moment, he found a man in Ainu garb standing by Blackjack's side and all desire to lash out drained from him. "We were given free will for a reason."

_"Eight children in a rainbow sky,"_ the man had said once. A faint chill crept up Takeru's spine as he recognized the man.

"Who are you?"

The man grinned suddenly, with a spark of madness lighting his eyes. "Which me? There are two: the Darkness and the Light. Who are you?"

Takeru blinked blankly at that, taken aback by the question. "Er, Takaishi Takeru."

"Your label, yes. Given at birth by someone else, but you never gave it to yourself. But who are you?"

He raked his mind for a good answer to that. What did this guy _want_? "Chosen Child, bearer of the Crest of Hope? I don't know what you want me to answer with."

"Well then," the madman turned to stroke Blackjack's neck. "Are you familiar with Fractal Theory? It does not matter if you are. You will ask Ken, regardless. You are one of the strange attractors."

With an exasperated sigh, Takeru scrubbed at his face and reminded himself to look up the term when he could. What the hell. Any answers were better than none at all. "Great. So, since it seems you're actually staying, what's going on?"

"Everything. Nothing." The madman's voice dropped in pitch from its usual baritone to a soft bass that was felt more than heard. "Conspiracies of the past against the future. An interregnum in which the fate of this land will either fall into chaos or be reborn in a new world order. You really ought to specify."

Well, unless the answers only raised more questions. Since he was asked, Takeru decided to be as specific as possible. "For starters, why are there people who have some sort of skill with manipulating the elements? Takuya can start fires, Chiaki manipulates water, Junpei can generate electricity. This isn't possible."

The madman gave an eerie, breathy chuckle at that. There was something oddly familiar about it, but Takeru couldn't remember where he heard it. "The Spirits chose them, of course."

"What spirits?"

"Of the Legendary Warriors of the Digital World." The madman's voice had a matter-of-fact tone now. "There are ten of them. Ten elements, ten spirits, ten warriors."

"Why haven't I heard of them," he asked. While it was true that his group hadn't been everywhere in the Digital World, he was sure he would have heard something about ten Legendary Warriors. Humans and digimon alike had a fondness for sharing folklore.

"How much do you really know about the Digital World," the bass voice asked in turn. It had an odd quality, almost ageless. "Do you know how it began? Have you ever met Zhuqiaomon and his fellow Holy Beasts, tasted their sheer hypocrisy in the air? Have you stood before the great monuments of the Dark City at dusk, or dug through the ARPANet ruins searching for the traces of the first virus to hit the Digital World? Have you ever seen the Creator in all Its bodiless glory?"

Takeru could only stare at the madman, speechless. The madman's eyes had a distant look as he spoke, a distance that wasn't entirely physical. He didn't look much like anyone in Takeru's age range anymore. Older, perhaps, but that wasn't exactly right either. Something whispered in the back of Takeru's mind then, providing a word that seemed to fit perfectly: _Timeless._

The bass voice continued when it realized that Takeru couldn't answer. "There is much you have not heard of. I must confess that even I do not understand all the secrets of the Digital World."

"You're a Chosen Child, aren't you?" Takeru knew he was scrabbling for something that would make some amount of sense, and didn't really care anymore. There was too much left unknown. "You talk like you've been there before. Where's your partner?"

The madman's sky-blue eyes, more unreadable than ever, fixed upon him as the voice returned to its usual baritone. "He's in a prison of his own making."

"...What? Why?"

"My partner killed eight worlds." Such simple words they were, yet Takeru could not imagine the full weight of the regret and guilt behind them. "He didn't mean to, not really. He just... misinterpreted something I said. That was always his failing: he could come up with these great ideas that he thinks would make me happy, but never bother to think out the details or repercussions. Then his big, epic plans would blow up in his face."

How could anyone respond to that? Eight worlds? How was that even possible? How could one digimon, if it even _was_ a digimon, do that much damage? And because of what, a plan that went horribly wrong? Bewildered, Takeru's mind could only skitter from one question to the next like some trapped mouse in a maze that didn't make sense. Maybe it was just the hallucination of a madman, but in the back of Takeru's mind he _knew_ it had to be true. It was just too bizarre to be otherwise.

The bass voice spoke again when nothing else was forthcoming. "Nurture your rage, Hope. It will be what drives you in the darkest night, for there are times when history is made by those who cannot bear the current state of affairs any longer." It sounded almost sympathetic, if such a thing could be said for something that seemed almost inhuman yet all too human. However, there was little doubt in Takeru's mind that the bass voice _knew_ exactly what it was like. "When the time comes, embrace the darker passions of the human soul. They can sustain a man where all else fails."

"Er..." There were too many questions, too much to say, for Takeru to respond immediately. The madman gave a humorless half-smile at his expression and gave the horse one last pat on the neck before stepping away.

"You want to know why I'm saying any of this," the nice, _human_ baritone asked at last. "You're the strange attractor. You have other questions too, but they'll be answered in time. Time shall tell." The madman turned to walk away at that moment, then paused to say something else. "Oh! I almost forgot. The Spirit of Wood can be found where no light falls."

Takeru gritted his teeth at that. Of _course_ the man had to be cryptic now, of all times. What was the "Spirit of Wood" and where _did_ someone find a place where there was no light? He was going to ask, in fact, when the madman whispered something and disappeared right in front of his eyes. He wasn't surprised at the disappearing act, but what was "Chrono Paradox" supposed to mean?

.*.

In the dim light of a few whale oil lamps, Daisuke didn't really notice when Takeru slipped out. His attention was on Junpei and the man's entertaining magic tricks. Deep inside, Daisuke _knew_ they were sleight-of-hand tricks and not real magic, but he rather thought it was nice to indulge in a bit of childish fancy every now and then. Besides, with the digimon just as spellbound as he, Daisuke could afford it. Even Chiaki watched the magic acts with open wonder on her face. That might have been enhanced by meeting digimon for the first time, though.

Jou, however, wandered off to another room to sleep once the women had the good grace to give birth at (or an hour before and half an hour after) midnight instead of the small hours of the morning. He had muttered something about waking him up if any of the patients staying there overnight needed something, but Junpei shooed him off and said they wouldn't wake him unless it was life-threatening. Given that everyone was stable and would likely remain that way for a few hours, Jou hadn't protested too much.

It was when Junpei's exhaustion started showing in his increasing fumblings that Takeru shuffled into the room and watched with detached disinterest. His eyes were rimmed with red, as if he had been crying. Daisuke would have asked about it if he hadn't come to understand that Takeru didn't really open up to people and most certainly didn't appreciate inquiries into his emotional state. What was strange, though, was that Takeru didn't look sad. It was more like anger that had worn itself out to the point where it was no longer potent, but that was more likely due to his friend's exhaustion.

Patamon gave an enormous yawn, which was then echoed by the two other digimon, and fluttered over to nuzzle his partner reassuringly. The look Takeru gave Patamon was a considering one, as if he was thinking about _something_ that was probably deep, meaningful, and wouldn't be shared. Both Chosen Child and digimon partner remained silent.

"Well, I dunno about you guys, but I've gotta go to sle--" Junpei's words were interrupted by his own yawn, and he shot Patamon an almost accusing glare before continuing. "Gotta go to sleep. The mayor sent up a few extra futons at my insistence. Room 104 for Chiaki, and 105 and 106 for Takeru and Daisuke."

With a brief nod, Daisuke rose and started for the door with V-mon close behind. But--

"Wait, do any of you know anything about Fractal Theory," Takeru spoke up at long last. "Strange attractors? Anything?"

All around were sounds of denial. Daisuke himself couldn't think of any place he might have heard of them. "Fractal Theory" sounded like something conceived in thinktanks in the old world, not a product of the world as it was now. "Sorry, man. Maybe you should ask Ken when we get back to the rover?"

Takeru frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, might as well. Thanks anyway."

Chiaki wished them all a good night, claimed one of the lamps, and shuffled off to her room. Junpei picked up Gomamon, mumbled something about dropping the digimon off at Jou's room, and took another lamp with him as he left. This left Daisuke and V-mon with Takeru and Patamon, and Takeru didn't look like he was going to move _or_ talk any time soon.

"Hey, Takeru," Daisuke started, though some small part of him urged him to shut up and let his friend brood if that's what Takeru really wanted, "if you wanted to talk about anything that's on your mind, you'd let me know? Right?"

Rather than answer him immediately, Takeru scrubbed his face tiredly with a palm. "Go ahead and go to sleep. I need to write in the journal for a bit before I collapse."

With a slight frown at the evasion, Daisuke simply nodded, grabbed a lamp, and retreated to the hallway. His gut feeling told him that to push on Takeru _now_ would be a very bad idea, so he was better off asking about it later. He grumbled in incoherent frustration and started for his room with V-mon close behind.

"Patamon says Takeryu has lots of problems he won't talk about," V-mon piped up helpfully once they were in a former examination room and settling down for the night. With the exam table and a counter for materials taking up a good deal of the room, there wasn't much space for the futon. But a futon was a futon, and it was a damn sight better than a worn-out old sleeping bag. Thankfully, someone had come along to dust it not too long ago. Must've been whoever dropped off the futons.

"It's 'Takeru,' not 'Takeryu.'" Daisuke paused to pick V-mon up and place him on the padded exam table that would be his bed for the night. "I know he has issues, but you just don't push when someone's tired and ready to bite your head off. Okay?"

V-mon frowned at that, but was distracted by another yawn and relented. "S'pose you're right. It's not good to bottle things up like that, though. Gomamon said so, 'cause Jou does it a lot too."

"I completely agree," Daisuke muttered as he removed his battered old hiking boots in the process of disrobing for sleep. "I'm just not up for a fight at this hour. There's always tomorrow."

V-mon yawned his agreement and curled up on his makeshift bed. It wasn't long before the lamp's flame was snuffed out.

.*.

It wasn't quite mid-morning when Jou woke, but he deserved to sleep in. Gomamon insisted that he not feel guilty about it, especially since they had such a busy day yesterday. He went about his morning ablutions as quietly as he could, careful not to wake the others, and dropped Gomamon off with the horses. Once he made sure the critters were fed (including Gomamon, who said it wasn't fair to let the horses have all the fruit), he began the checking-in-on-the-patients routine. The cholera victims looked a lot better, so he lectured them for a bit on the importance of boiling their drinking water and fully cooking their food. He didn't really expect many of them to listen to him, but it was worth a try. Then he looked in on the new mothers and their children, most of whom were perfectly fine. The woman who needed a Cesarean section, however, had to have her bandages changed and the stitches checked in case of infection. The seams weren't as red as they would have been at the beginnings of an infection, so Jou wiped down the area with a saline solution again for propriety and told the woman to call for him if she needed him to check up on her again. After that, he looked in on the man whose hand he had to amputate. Once he removed the bandage, cleaned the area, and placed a new bandage on the stump, he moved on to the lounge.

Standing over the old camping stove was Takeru, whose hair was so disheveled under the typical cap that Jou suspected the younger man hadn't gotten up much earlier than himself. Patamon, whose mouth was rimmed with bits of sticky rice, napped on the counter. The smell of frying eggs called immediately to his stomach, which rumbled in turn and caught Takeru's attention.

"Hey, up for breakfast," Takeru asked in a surprisingly cheerful tone. Rest seemed to make him act like his old self again.

Jou was almost tempted to ask if everything was fully cooked, but Takeru actually listened to his lectures. At least those concerning survival, anyway. "Sure."

Apparently having anticipated his arrival, Takeru presented him with a plate of fried eggs, sticky rice, and a steaming hot bowl of miso soup. As Jou began washing his hands before settling down to eat, Takeru asked, "Do you know where I can find Teruo?"

Jou frowned thoughtfully as he dried off his hands and sat at the table that was probably older than him. "He's been on the run for the past year, so I couldn't really tell you anything useful."

"Hmm." Takeru paused to load his own plate and soup bowl with food, then settled across from Jou. "Do you know if he has a private retreat or anything of that nature?"

"What do you mean?"

Takeru grimaced briefly, though over what, Jou could not guess. "There's this... informant of sorts. He says I can find some sort of 'Spirit of Wood' in a place 'where no light falls.' Does that mean anything to you?"

With a thoughtful frown on his face, Jou began shovelling rice into his soup with old, worn-down chopsticks. He hadn't kept track of Teruo. The man came to him with mandrake root, willow bark, and other medicinal plant products every few months, but... "I think he has this old greenhouse out near Wakayama, where he grows plants that aren't native to Japan and wouldn't normally do so well here. It's where I get the mandrake, actually." When his stomach took the opportunity to remind him of his presence, he gave Takeru an apologetic look and took a moment to scoop up the miso-soaked rice and eat. Then, once the offending organ finally stopped growling at him, he continued. "Anyway, within walking distance of it is a cave out on the coast. Hawk's Nest, if I remember correctly. I can't imagine what he'd be doing in the cave. It's hard to get into and he prefers to be around plants."

"But if he's on the run, he'd be desperate enough to hole himself away in a cave, wouldn't he," the younger man asked.

Jou muttered something that should have come out as "Perhaps," but it was muffled by very good soup and rice. Takeru must've picked up some of that cooking skill from Yamato. When Takeru didn't ask him anything else, he finished up with the rice-soup mix and moved on to the fried eggs. He was mostly through with them when Takeru decided to speak again.

"Oh, there's something I have that might be useful to you." Takeru paused for a moment to search a pocket of his faded, battered old trench coat for something that was soon revealed to be a floppy disk. He laid it on the table. "Next time you see Koushiro, could you have him run this for you?"

It was a black disk, wholly unmarked save for the factory standards. Jou picked it up and placed it in a pocket. Couldn't hurt. "Sure. What's on it?"

"It's an inventory database put together by someone I know. Has listings of what old world resources are still available and where. Something I was looking for wasn't on the database, but I did notice that there were still a few unlooted medical equipment caches. Gauze, antiseptic, thread, working microscopes, stuff like that. If anyone deserves it, you do."

Speechless, Jou dug in his pocket to bring out the disk and stare at it again. His own resources were dwindling so much that he had to start using strips of cloth for gauze and sterilized horse hair for thread. And working microscopes? His own had been destroyed in a raid long ago. He turned the disk almost reverently in his fingers. When he spoke again, his voice was softened to the point of being nearly inaudible. "Thank you, Takeru. It will help a lot."

A brief smile flashed across Takeru's face before he turned to his breakfast, and for that moment Jou was reminded of the kid Takeru used to be. It seemed like eons ago.

"You'll probably be wanting to go soon," Jou began helpfully once Takeru was finishing up with his own breakfast. "Wakayama is pretty far from here. Have any paper?"

The younger man gave him a questioning look, but reached into a pocket to pull out an old, green faux-leather journal. "Yeah." He then ripped out a yellowing sheet from the back and offered it to Jou.

Jou took a few moments to scribble up an approximate map. It was an atrocious rendition and rather looked like a child's doodling, but it was better than nothing. As an afterthought, he scrawled instructions in the margins. "Here's a map of the coast and instructions on how to get to the cave. You'll want to be sure you're not being followed."

Takeru gave his thanks and looked over the crude map. He folded it up and tucked it into his own journal before speaking again. "Oh, before we take off, could you answer a question?" Jou regarded him curiously, but made no move to discourage him. "Are you going to take Chiaki in as an apprentice?"

In the silence that followed, Jou mulled over his options. He didn't really like sudden changes in his life, but even he had to admit that he needed what help he could get. It felt rather like it would be unfair to Chiaki, because he was no _real_ doctor. Everything he knew had come from books or watching his own father, and if he had no real mastery, how could he train someone else? But then again, it was better if someone else knew what little he knew. The world was in sore need of doctors. "Yeah, I suppose. I could use the help."

"Good." Takeru smiled at him again. It was an honest smile that suggested complete faith in Jou's abilities. "You're a really good doctor, Jou. Don't ever try to tell yourself otherwise."

If only Jou could truly believe that of himself.

.*.

Daisuke was a bit cranky when Takeru woke him up at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning and said something about driving some three hundred kilometers south to find someone. All the way to the other side of the island! Literally!

Then Takeru mentioned just where they were going, and a sudden weight settled around Daisuke's heart. He didn't want to remember. Never again. But...

"Say, uh, Takeru?" Daisuke's voice was almost hesitant, which was unusual enough that Takeru looked back during their hike to the place they hid the rover to regard him quizzically. They said their goodbyes to Jou, Junpei, Chiaki, and Gomamon without incident. That Daisuke was sounding subdued _now_ probably threw Takeru for a loop. "Wouldya mind if V-mon and I go to visit someplace in town? Wakayama is, uh, where my parents died. I'd like to visit the grave."

For the briefest moment, Takeru looked struck. It passed before Daisuke could think to comment on it. "Oh." Then guilt passed over his face. "Yeah, sure. There's a greenhouse marked on the map. We'll find it, part there, and meet up in the morning?"

"Okay." Well, this was awkward. "Thanks."

Takeru simply nodded and began pulling off the branches that hid their rover. No other words were spoken as they got into the rover and began the very long drive across the Honshu island. Even Patamon and V-mon, normally gregarious when given the opportunity, were strangely silent. Stops were made to refuel, make use of the bushes, eating, and sleep. The silent tension remained thick throughout the trip.

.*.

They finally arrived at Wakayama a day later. Takeru really had no idea what to say. Anything that came to mind felt inappropriate, so he said nothing and Daisuke said nothing in turn. After several failed attempts, they found Teruo's greenhouse with its exotic plants, hid the rover, and parted for the day. Daisuke had his own past to face now, but at least V-mon would be with him.

By the time the sun was low in the sky, Takeru found himself picking his way around the crags of a rocky beach. Waves sprayed him as they clashed with the rocks, but he paid them little attention. He was looking for a particular outcrop of rock with deep shadows suggesting a cave, one that soon presented itself.

"Is that where we're going," Patamon asked at last. He didn't speak throughout the hike, content to leave Takeru with his thoughts.

Takeru paused once they reached the cave's mouth. It smelled strongly of sea salt, but there was an underlying odor of smoke. Someone was living there. He kept his voice low, more in hopes that the occupant wouldn't spook than anything else. "According to Jou. Impressive, isn't it?"

Patamon made an agreeable sound. He launched himself from his usual perch on top of Takeru's head and hovered nearby as Takeru started climbing the dangerously slick rocks to access the gaping maw of the cave above. Once at the mouth, Takeru grabbed an Iwakuni-issued flashlight from his backpack and flipped it on to gaze into the darkness.

Wild brown eyes set in a face that had gone gaunt from malnutrition stared back at him in terror.

Takeru kept his voice low and respectful, rather hoping that the man would calm down a bit. "Teruo?"

"Who are you," a tenor voice asked in the dark. "What do you want? Go away!"

Takeru crouched down and spread his hands to show that he was unarmed and not planning to attack. "I'm not here to kill you-"

" _Why not!_ " Teruo's voice was near-hysterical now.

He stared in bemusement at the figure huddled in the darkness. "What do you mean, 'Why not?'"

"It's _my_ fault it's back." Teruo's voice took on a plaintive note. "It's _my_ fault it mutated! Isn't that deserving of death?"

Takeru frowned slightly, but settled down at the floor of the cave's mouth in a cross-legged pose that suggested he wasn't going to do anything to Teruo but also wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. "I'm not here to debate that. I need to talk to you."

The figure in the back of the cave eyed him warily now. Or something like that. It was hard to tell with the flashlight on floor and not quite focusing on Teruo's face anymore. "About what?"

"How'd you acquire the technology necessary to create a vaccine in the first place?" It was good to keep things simple and direct sometimes.

"Why should I tell you," Teruo asked, sudden suspicion threading through his voice.

"You told Kai, didn't you?" Takeru kept his voice low, matter-of-fact. "He's dead. I'm following his footsteps."

Teruo stared at him for a moment, then gave a short, bitter laugh. "I worked under a virologist up north. Our boss kept trying to get him to produce viable results, but the virologist kept fumbling. I think he never wanted to make a vaccine in the first place. So, the boss had me go out and collect samples. Try to expedite the process on my own while the Doc was procrastinating. If I succeeded, we'd be free of the virus forever. But," Teruo's voice took on a guilty tone, "I failed so badly. So very badly."

Takeru chose not to agree with the man at the moment. "Is this place up north Amaterasu's Cave?"

"Yeah. Don't ask me for directions." Teruo paused to shuffle around, presumably to settle into a more comfortable position. "They dropped me off near where I needed to go, then picked me up at designated points. I wasn't allowed to see the exact location. I never even learned any names."

Takeru knew he was grasping at straws now, but couldn't care less. In an almost frantic sense of renewed hope, he dug around an inner pocket until he felt the edges of a photograph he kept for such events. It was the last picture ever taken of the Ishida-Takaishi family before the divorce. "Wait. There's this woman," he paused to hold up the photo and shine the flashlight's beam on its surface. "Have you seen her? Or the man?"

The figure in the dark leaned forward to get a good look at the photo, then shook his head regretfully. "Sorry. I only had very restricted access to the place or other people there." At Takeru's crestfallen expression, Teruo hurried to continue. "You don't understand, I was a kid from the outside. They didn't trust me." Then he gave a short, humorless chuckle. "And now they're hunting me down for screwing up."

Something within Takeru reminded him of a man who had been hunted by what were possibly the same people. "Have you ever heard of a kid named Matsuda Takato?"

"I think so," Teruo said after long consideration. "Average height, shaggy mid-brown hair, cinnamon-colored eyes?"

"Yes, that's him."

"Subject M, we called him. One of several. The Doc paid special attention to him." In the faint illumination of the flashlight, Takeru could make out a faint frown on Teruo's face. "Kept saying he'd be the key vessel or something like that. Doc was a bit nuts, I think. They said he's the one who let Subject M go and make off with his laptop."

Why he was pursuing this line of questioning, Takeru wasn't sure. It was information, and any information he could get about Amaterasu's Cave might be important. "What can you tell me of this 'Doc' you keep mentioning?"

"Not much. He kept to himself a lot and exuded this aura that just screamed 'keep away.' Half the time you talked to him, it felt like talking to an omniscient computer who was smarter and looked better than you. He discouraged every attempt anyone made to get close, and a lot of us thought he was, well, an asshole. Anything else?" From what Takeru could tell of Teruo's expression in the faint light, it didn't seem like the other man wanted to answer anything else.

"No, I think that's it." Takeru started to rise. "Thank you for your time."

Teruo glanced up at him in surprise, then noticed for the first time that there was a peculiar creature peeking in from the rim of the cave's mouth. "Wait, who told you where to find me? Jou?"

With a blink of surprise, Takeru responded. "How'd you guess?"

Rather than answer him outright, Teruo went off on his way. "Good man, Jou. If you see him before I do, could you mention that I've been working on a special opium poppy crop for him? Stronger than regular opium, but just the right dosage should do as well as many old world anaesthetic."

"Sure." Takeru mentally shrugged off the sense that Teruo probably wasn't ever going to tell him how he knew. "Good work on the mandrake, by the way. It works nicely."

A hesitant smile appeared in the faint electric light. "Thank you. Plants, at least, I can't screw up with."

Takeru chose not to respond to that.

.*.

At the apex of the pandemic in Japan, many of the people who knew they had to die preferred to make their own choice about how they would go out. Some parents who had yet to succumb to the virus would buy what supplies they could for their children, wait until the children were asleep, then take their own lives when they started developing the first symptoms. While there were still a few professionals around, a popular form of suicide was the ingestion of deliberately poisoned fugu sushi. Once eaten, the tetrodotoxin that was the fugu's natural defense would slay the victim quickly and left less of a mess than the virus. It was a fast, clean death.

That had been the way Daisuke's parents went out. As a child, he believed they were immortal and were going to be there forever. He thought _his_ parents were going to be greater than the virus and it would never touch them. He refused to question why his parents suddenly decided to drag them off to where his mother was born at the drop of a hat, or why his father spent a lot of time buying what he thought were useless things at the time. When he did ask about it, he was given a gaming console for distraction and chose to take advantage of it. Then, towards the end, Jun was acting really strange. She would start crying for no reason he could tell, but he didn't ask because he was afraid. The signs were there and he ignored them.

But on the last night, he knew something was wrong. His mother was coughing into a pink handkerchief a lot, but always tucked it away before he could ask about the red splotches that didn't seem to be a part of the handkerchief's pattern. She was sweating a lot and her face felt hot, so he insisted she go to bed and he could make some soup for her. Then Jun started crying again and ran up to hug their mother. At the time he wanted to believe that Jun was being overly dramatic and trying to kiss up to the parents for another favor, but the very thought felt too flimsy to hold up to the truth he refused to face. Then their father came home with some sort of expensive sushi that neither Daisuke or Jun were allowed to eat. The sushi was set aside and untouched during supper, so he no longer thought anything of it. The supper was a grand affair of multiple courses and a big chocolate cake at the end, but no one except him seemed to be interested in eating it.

Then came what he was certain would be branded into his mind forever. Both mother and father told them how proud they were of their children and how much they loved them, even though they might not have always expressed it. Jun was told to take care of Daisuke, which he didn't have the heart to resent at the time. Daisuke was told to be strong and brave, and that they would always watch over him. It felt too much like a goodbye for him to ignore what was going on anymore. Jun started bawling again, which then set him off and sent him crying into his mother's arms. He and Jun were hugged close by their parents and sent to bed.

The next morning, he rubbed viciously at the crusts in his eyes and raced to his parents' bedroom in nothing but his pajamas. They weren't there, so he hoped fervently that they had just stepped outside for a moment and would be back at any minute. He ran outside to wait for them, first in the front yard of his mother's childhood home, then to the back. His parents were there, certainly, but they would never speak to him again.

He found them lying at the bottom of a shallow pit dug beneath a cherry tree, with nothing but a white sheet between them and the cold earth. Their eyes were close as if in sleep, but blood caked around every orifice and emphasized the picture of death. He remembered staring blankly, uncomprehendingly, at his parents until Jun came up and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. That was what made it _real_ now, and he couldn't help but cry again.

In time, he and Jun filled the grave with earth to keep the scavengers away, then carved out the kanji for Motomiya into the tree's bark. When they couldn't stand to be at the grave any longer, they dragged themselves back into the house. He noticed for the first time that his parents knew it was coming and had planned in advanced. The pantry was filled with canned food and bottled water. Vegetable seed packets were carefully arranged on the countertop with notes left to dictate how to plant them and appropriate harvest times. There were giant rice bags and packs of dried seasonings, and over in a corner was a fishing rod with a tackle box. They found match boxes, an axe for chopping wood, whetstones, a book on how to prepare fresh-caught fish, a sewing kit, clothes and shoes for when the children grew out of what clothes they came with. At one point, Daisuke found something he designed when he was younger: a bomber jacket with a flame pattern, commissioned by his mother in her last days and cut to fit his father. The note she left for him said that she hoped it suited his vision, and he would grow into it when he was older. Everything they needed to survive was here, but they left when they could no longer deal with the memories.

And now he was back.

Over the years, bark grew into the scarring that acted as his parents' grave marker. It was barely legible now, but he knew where it was and that was all that mattered. Even though he knew it was going to rain soon, what with the forbidding dark clouds in the sky, he sat at the grave and talked. He didn't really care if he looked like an idiot talking to a tree, and V-mon was a good sport about it. He told the tree about what happened in the past few years, about losing Jun and finding her again, about Iwakuni and his new friends and how Ken was planning to bring a new government into the world. He retold the story of the Inoue sisters and their flight, of how he met V-mon and how _right_ it felt when they became partners. He talked about everything that came to mind. Sometimes it was painful, but that's what catharsis was about.

.*.

Morning found Takeru at Teruo's greenhouse, where he and Patamon spent the night. The sky was still overcast and depressingly grey, but that tended to be the norm in Japan. He waited patiently with Patamon for Daisuke and V-mon's return. The sooner they could get back to Iwakuni, the better. Not that he didn't like it here, but Ken said over the radio that he couldn't explain Fractal Theory without visual references, and Takeru's curiosity was gnawing at him.

When he was ready to seek out Daisuke himself, he noticed a figure in a garish bomber jacket that looked all too familiar walking up the dirt path to the greenhouse. Takeru stepped from the greenhouse's door to greet Daisuke and V-mon, but thought better of it and chose to meet them halfway instead.

V-mon took that moment to look up, then paused and called out to the others to stop too. Once they did, he pointed up at the sky. "Hey, what's that?"

Curious, Takeru turned to look up at the sky behind him. Stretched across the sky was a rainbow, which wasn't all that unusual. What was unusual, though, was the pale shadow of a rainbow smudged in the sky above it. Its colors were arranged in a washed-out mirror image of the first rainbow.

"A double rainbow," he found himself saying. "It happens when the first rainbow reflects off the droplets in the air around it."

"Think it's an omen," Patamon asked in wonder.

Takeru shrugged and started walking in the direction of the rover. It would be nice to believe it was a good omen, but he wasn't much for such naivete anymore. When he noticed he wasn't being followed by Daisuke, he looked back to see a peculiar sight.

Daisuke's gaze was fixed on the double rainbow. To Takeru's surprise, he stretched out a hand to wave farewell, as if to the dearly departed. Takeru decided not to ask about it. The least he could do was respect Daisuke's private moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fugu, or pufferfish, contains trace amounts of tetrodotoxin in its skin and certain organs. This is one of the most potent toxins known to man, and even a small amount can kill an adult human in the span of a few minutes. In Japan it's considered a delicacy, but fugu chefs must pass a poison extraction test before being certified to serve fugu in any form. Naturally, towards the end of the Apocalypse, there was so much demand for death by eating a delicacy that the fugu chefs gave up on extracting the toxin and instead started leaving the toxin in for the customers that demanded it. Suicide was considered a more honorable death than a full day and night of massive hemorrhage and eventually dying of nervous system breakdown.


	9. Present Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeru and Daisuke capture an older man from Amaterasu, an enemy no one knows much about, who knew Takeru's mother.

For the most part, the long drive from Wakayama was nondescript. There was nothing of interest to note, and certainly nothing for Takeru to recognize as potential information fodder. All in all, it was quite boring. He was even almost tempted to ask Daisuke how the grave visit went, but that would have been callous. For the briefest moment, he wondered if Jianliang would have his hide if he decided to pick up the radio and start up some random conversation with Ken or Sora. Maybe he would luck out and pull Ken out of a meeting, possibly resulting in irritating the man for the interruption. It was an amusing thought, but he rather appreciated the resources at his disposal. He was covering more ground in the month or so he'd been with Iwakuni than he had for the past fifteen years, so it wouldn't do to piss off the man who just so happened to be lending him those resources.

At some point during his rambling chain of thoughts, he was randomly interrupted by a group of people flocking onto the road in an attempt to get his attention. Puzzled, he motioned the two digimon to hide under the blanket between their human partners and slowed to a stop. Daisuke looked at him curiously, then at the crowd of people.

"Hey, mister," someone called out from the crowd. Takeru peered around until he noticed the rather pudgy man waving to get his attention. The man wove his way through the crowd until he was finally face to face with Takeru. "Please pardon the intrusion, but a bunch of men in silver suits abducted my daughter. Could you help us track them down?"

A memory of silver suits and an exploding flamethrower tank fixed itself at the forefront of Takeru's mind and left him feeling queasy. _More_ men of fire? "Five, maybe six of them, right?"

"Five, yes. You know of them," the pudgy man asked.

"Sort of. Long story." Takeru had to grimace at the memory _that_ brought up. "Where were they heading?"

"South of here," someone in the back called out. "We would've caught them by now, but they have a good hour on us-"

"But you have that truck," the man who first called out to them interrupted. "Please, if you can bring my daughter back, I'll pay anything-"

"Don't worry about it," Daisuke offered cheerfully, having apparently returned to his usual good-natured self. "Just wait here and we'll try to find your kid."

The crowd parted with a collective grateful sigh, leaving Takeru with just enough of a corridor to drive through. He nudged the acceleration pedal until he was going fast enough for Daisuke to start looking at him funny, but not so fast that he could no longer control the vehicle. His eyes caught a glint of something shiny and human-sized off the road, and the gut reaction of a hunter urged him to follow his prey, regardless of the obstacles. He drove off the road and into the clearing, but when something large and black registered in his mind, he hit the brakes so hard that his passengers were thrown into the front of truck's carriage.

A black helicopter hovered above the clearing with a rope ladder suspended from its bay. The men of fire looked back at the commotion he made, seemed to argue amongst themselves, then dropped a child-sized bundle and rushed to the ladder. He reacted without thinking, and somehow the bow he kept behind his seat found its way into his hands. Patamon, familiar with the motions of the hunt, pushed a couple of arrows into his right hand. He nocked one of the arrows into the bow and drew the string back. His eyes fixed on his target purely out of force of habit, then he lined up the arrow to its target and let it loose.

One of the ladder ropes snapped, leaving the one straggler in the bunch hanging on for dear life. Takeru nocked the second arrow in place, drew back, and fired. The second rope snapped and the fifth man of fire fell to the ground. Unwilling to lose the rest, the helicopter flew away and left the fifth man to his fate.

Takeru jumped from the truck and raced to the fallen man, having completely forgotten the child for the thrill of the hunt. He found another arrow in his hand and by the time he was at the fallen man, it was nocked back and ready to fire.

The man of fire looked up at him and sneered. Behind the protective plastic of the faceplate was a visage that spoke of middle age. Long black hair was streaked with grey, and hateful black eyes stared back at him from a long face that was paler than anyone Takeru could remember seeing. Deep frown lines were cut by the years into the man's cheeks and between his brows. Takeru nudged the arrowpoint against where he knew the man's neck would be.

"You're coming with us," he whispered in a voice that promised quick retaliation if he wasn't obeyed. The man of fire narrowed his eyes at him, but raised both hands in a signal of surrender.

Takeru was only barely aware of Daisuke releasing the girl from her bonds, his attention focused solely on the man in silver. Only when Daisuke turned up at his elbow did Takeru relax. He didn't remove the arrow from its place until Daisuke moved forward to tie the man up and slide the canvas bag used on the girl over the man's face.

The crowd joined them as Takeru busied himself securing his prisoner to the rover's bed. Daisuke spared him the hassle and handled the crowd with his usual ease, so Takeru didn't think much of the girl until her voice could be heard above the din. He was then struck with the question of _why_ anyone would want to kidnap a perfectly normal kid, and hopped out the back of the rover to ask about it.

Curiously, no one had any idea. The girl was the only child of the leader of a nomadic group, but there was nothing particularly special about her or her group to make for a worthwhile endeavor. Takeru was almost ready to dismiss the incident as some weird fluke until he remembered his talk with Teruo.

_Subject M. Vessels._ Were they trying to pick up more people for human experimentation? The thought made him sick with disgust. People were not lab rats to be experimented upon and dehumanized by having their names stripped and replaced with single letters or a serial number. It was an attitude that was all too common, unfortunately. He wondered if it was always that way.

He mused over these thoughts the rest of the way to Iwakuni.

It had taken a good few hours to reach the base he was starting to consider calling home. The drive was again nondescript, but deep inside he rather enjoyed making things uncomfortable for the man in the silver suit by racing over potholes in the road. Admittedly, his other passengers were giving him funny looks, but they didn't say anything until they were finally within the base itself.

Base security was relatively lax that day. This meant that there were only half as many guards posted and Jianliang wasn't on the prowl. He was probably caught up in a meeting. A small part of Takeru wondered if the head of security ever actually got any sleep, but he was certainly never going to receive an answer to that. Daisuke quietly picked up V-mon and Patamon, stated loudly that he was going to take the kids out to play, then whispered his intention of dropping the digimon off with Shaochung while Takeru dealt with the man still tied up to the rover. Takeru merely nodded and gave Patamon a passing scratch on a wing joint before Daisuke ran off to the Digimon Room.

Soon enough, Jianliang was bearing down on the deployment area with his escort of soldiers. It couldn't have been five minutes since Takeru arrived.

"Are you psychic," Takeru asked the man in a tone that he hoped came across as teasing. He was never really sure how Jianliang reacted to that sort of thing. Considering the carefully blank expression on the man's face, teasing was as much a futile effort as any other attempt to treat Jianliang as human.

"Would I tell you if I were," the head of security asked in turn. Before Takeru could think of a comeback, Jianliang marched up to the back of his rover to regard the prisoner who still had a sack over his face. When he spoke again, it was in a louder, more commanding voice. "You three," he gestured at the foremost soldiers, "will take our _guest_ to Isolation Room 4. Takaishi, report to Ken immediately."

Takeru bit down the urge to respond with "Yes _sir._ Right away, _sir,_ " and did as he was ordered. While he was quite tempted to take his own sweet time in getting to Ken's office by taking the least direct route possible, he reluctantly ignored it and continued on his way. He _did_ have matters of some importance to go over with his boss, after all.

"Ken's office" was something of a misnomer. It had been the Special Ops headquarters at one point, complete with computer arrays and a map/table that lit up underneath. Since Ken had settled in, it became an apartment of sorts. Against a wall was a plush couch and a matching ottoman, with a ficus at one end and an end table and lamp at the other. What had once been a place for officers to place personal items was now home to a bonsai tree and a coffeemaker that was only used to heat water for teas. There was a desk where Ken was usually found at, with paperwork neatly arranged in stacks while Wormmon was around and in a complete mess when he wasn't. While Takeru knew Ken had his own quarters elsewhere in the base, he secretly suspected that Ken spent most of his time here and slept on the couch. It would stand to reason, especially since he rarely saw Ken out of his own office.

Even now Ken was sprawled out on the couch for a nap, with an open book shielding his face from the lamp's light. Wormmon was curled up on the ottoman and ever so often twitched a leg in his own slumber. Takeru was tempted to leave Ken alone and tell the head of security that the room was locked and he just went elsewhere, but considering the room was seldomly locked anyway while Ken was in it, anyone would have seen the boldfaced lie. So, with a sigh, he reached over and picked up the book.

Ken grimaced at the influx of light and blinked up at Takeru blearily until he recognized the agent. "Well, thank you _very_ much for interrupting a perfectly nice dream."

Despite himself, a half-smile appeared on Takeru's face. "What, were you dreaming of chasing us agents with a whip?"

"Very funny." Ken paused to pull himself up to a sitting position. "But no. I had this dream where I was a kid and devouring vanilla ice cream and angel food cake. It's been so long since I've had either of those things."

"I prefer chocolate ice cream and devil's food myself," Takeru offered conversationally. "If you have any idea where I can find any of those now, I'm willing to pledge my undying loyalty to you."

"I shall attempt to locate your requested items, then." Ken's voice changed from dry and teasing to a more serious note now. "What are you doing here? You're not due back for another few days."

Wormmon yawned and twisted around a bit to regain his footing, then waited patiently for Takeru to speak. After taking a seat at Ken's insistence, Takeru reviewed the discussion with Teruo, the drive back, and his encounter with the nomad group. Then, at last, he went into detail about the men of fire and the straggler he captured.

"And," he added, "they had a helicopter pick them up. The kind of big black helicopter you used to see in those military films. Who the hell has that kind of power nowadays?"

Ken only frowned slightly at that, but said nothing. He seemed to be thinking deeply about the subject. However, when Takeru was tempted to ask what they were going to do with this information, Ken finally spoke. "I think we need to talk to our prisoner, don't you?"

Takeru could only nod in mute agreement.

.*.

It didn't take very long for Daisuke to offload the digimon somewhere safe. He had been extremely lucky and ran into Jun on the way to the Digimon Room. After he explained their situation and why he needed to drop the digimon off for babysitting, he left them with Jun and raced back to the deployment area. By the time he arrived, the captive and Jianliang's escort unit were gone. Upon close inspection though, he found one soldier from the unit left behind.

"I'm here to escort you to the isolation area," the soldier stated in a monotone once Daisuke asked her where everyone went. "Ready when you are, sir."

Once Daisuke gave his assent, the soldier turned on her heel and marched to a stairwell. Instead of going up, as was the norm for accessing the frequently used parts of the base, the soldier led him downwards. The mounted electric lights from the upper portions of the stairwell dimmed the further they went down until it had gone completely dark. Daisuke picked his way down more carefully now. Ever so often there was a landing with a mounted plate backlit to display the basement floor number, but that was all the light available. Did no one come down here?

Eventually they came to the steady, beady red glare of some sort of security keypad and the soldier stopped to tap in a sequence of numbers. They entered once the bead of light turned green.

The corridor that awaited wasn't brightly lit, as was the norm, but emergency backup lights were set at certain intervals and gave off a faint red glow. Daisuke was very tempted to ask what they kept down here, but Jianliang had trained his soldiers a bit too well. They were even more taciturn on duty than the head of security himself.

At long last the soldier led him to the end of the corridor, where a quartet of Isolation Rooms were clustered. What struck Daisuke as odd was that dust was present on tops of door knobs and plaques for the second and third rooms, but the first room seemed to see regular use and the fourth was in use now. Weird. Before he could consider going straight to Ken about what was in the first room, the soldier unlocked the door and ushered him into the fourth room.

Ken, Sora, Jianliang, and Takeru were lined up in a neat little row before a wall that was half glass. Beyond the glass was a small room with the man they captured glaring out at them. Daisuke slipped silently to Takeru's side.

"Now that we're all present," Ken began in that oddly dangerous yet authoritative tone he took on when addressing someone who just happened to irritate him that day, "you will remove your cowl. I believe you only have a few minutes of air left in your tank."

The figure behind the glass remained silent. Daisuke was sorely tempted to start squirming in impatience. He really hated when Ken did one of these stare-down things, because they almost always lasted for an obscene amount of time and he was usually crawling up the walls before someone broke. Finally, just before Daisuke would have started pushing buttons to get _someone_ to move, the captive removed his cowl and stepped into the light from the observation area.

Daisuke wasn't always the brightest bulb in the lot, but sometimes he could _tell_ when something weird was going on. The captive looked at Jianliang as if he _recognized_ the guy, and only Jianliang seemed to acknowledge it with just the subtlest of creasing between the eyebrows. Then, even more amazingly, the flinty black gaze shifted to Ken.

"Ah, I remember you," the captive stated in a voice that dripped with condescension. "It's been a while, Ken. Fifteen years, I think. I would say that you look like your father, but you and your brother never did, did you? I wondered if he was really your father at all."

"Oikawa." Ken practically snarled the acknowledgement. The weird sensation flared to life again. Something _really_ screwy was happening and Daisuke didn't have a clue what it was.

The captive smirked. "You should release me. I have no plans to turn over whatever information you want, and it would not benefit you to keep me. Let us call a stalemate and be on our ways before this becomes tiresome."

Ken's voice was as cold as a glacier now, and just as potentially destructive. "You _will_ answer my inquiries."

"What makes you think I will?" Oikawa leaned forward to openly sneer at them. His gaze fell upon the commanding officer's patch on Ken's uniform and the sneer turned into something far more unpleasant. "Such a pretty boy you were, Ken. How ever did you get to the top? Bestow sexual favors? You certainly never had your brother's cleverness and perchance for manipulation."

Daisuke had never really seen Ken pissed off before. A bit annoyed or cranky, yes, but that was nothing compared to the flare of sheer rage that sparked in Ken's eyes. "Everyone, out. This is personal."

"Wait! _We_ brought him here, and I think we should be in on the interrogation," Takeru snapped.

Daisuke saw it as an opening and jumped into the argument. "He's the first old guy we've seen in more than a decade! And dude, his people had _helicopters_! We sure as hell deserve to know what's going on!"

"Interrogation will be put off for later." Ken was practically barking at them. "Go _now!_ "

In an effort for more support, Takeru whipped around to face the impassive head of security. "Where do you stand on this?"

"I will stand behind Ken's decisions." Jianliang's voice had that almost mechanical drone he usually affected during such arguments. "He is our leader and I remember my place. Do you?"

Daisuke gaped in disbelief at Jianliang. The head of security recognized that Oikawa person and vice versa, but was acting like he couldn't care less? What gives! He then noticed Takeru turn to Sora, who looked torn between curiosity and loyalty.

Sora's gaze darted from Takeru to Ken, then to Oikawa. When she spoke, her voice was mildly hesitant. "I think we should come to a compromise. We should let Ken have an hour alone with our guest, then we'll come back and continue the interrogation."

Takeru muttered dourly under his breath but didn't challenge her. Instead, he shot one last glare at Ken and stalked out. What was weird was that Jianliang followed immediately afterwards, as if he was in a hurry to be somewhere. Daisuke didn't think twice about following the head of security to figure out what was going on. Instead of leaving the stairwell on the mess hall floor as Takeru had done, Jianliang rushed to the residential floor.

Daisuke waited a moment to presumably let Jianliang get a little more headway on him, but then the head of security broke into a run and he _had_ to stick his head out to see where Jianliang was running to. Oddly enough, when he stepped onto the residential floor, he found himself face to face with a tapir that wore a faceplate and seemed to be missing the lower half of its body. Bakumon, wasn't it? Daisuke was just about to greet the bakumon and ask it to get out of his way when it exhaled a sickly sweet-smelling smoke into his face.

The smoke made his head hurt a bit, but he just couldn't be bothered to care. His bones felt like wet clay and his muscles might as well be made of noodles for all the work they did. Didn't matter really. He was suddenly very tired and just wanted to lie down.

Were he in a better state of mind, he would have noticed someone with autumn-toned Ainu clothing dragging him into his room.

.*.

Ken remembered the events leading up to the downfall of Iwakuni very well. He was a child, so very few people paid attention to him as long as he stayed out of the way. Osamu may have been able to command the attention of others just by being there, but Ken could sneak around. He was good at it. During one of his excursions, he noticed an argument taking place between the man who brought his family here and one of the military commanders. From what he could tell, the argument was over the complete communications lockdown. No one could contact the outside for personal matters, a restriction that clearly hindered Oikawa's research. The military commander ordered Oikawa back to his lab and Ken was eager to follow.

What he learned that day was that _something_ drove Oikawa's frequent research into the Digital World. He was certain of the subject because he overheard Oikawa muttering to himself, as if there was someone else in the room to talk to. Amongst these discussions was how useful a pawn Ken could be, if only they could cultivate his resentment of his brother's fame. That stung, especially when he was starting to consider Oikawa as an okay, if a bit creepy, fellow.

Then, a few weeks later, the virus got in and all the adults died. Osamu commanded that only the youngest children should take the bodies outside for cremation, because he feared that the older kids would be able to catch it. As Ken helped sort through the bodies, he noticed something peculiar: Oikawa wasn't amongst them. He asked Osamu about it, but his brother said they'd have to think about it later. Since then he had redirected his resentment from his brother to Oikawa. His brother couldn't help what he was, but Oikawa lived when their parents had not. A rover and environment suit missing from the inventories only served to cement his belief that Oikawa was alive.

And here the man was now.

"I told them we should come back," Oikawa stated in a voice that was deadly in its quietness. "A perfectly intact base like this, with everything functioning as well as it had before the plague, would have been a prime target. I told them we should take command of this place before you kids got too powerful. They waited despite my insistence. They said you weren't worth the effort. And now you're proving me right. Thank you for that."

Ken's temper dampened slightly as new questions arose. "Who are 'they?'"

"You would like to know, wouldn't you? I won't give you the true name, that would make things too easy. Most of your people would call us 'Amaterasu'. I find it nicely symbolic." The older man paused to give a smirk that was entirely too self-assured for Ken's peace of mind. "They're going to come for me. I know too much for them to leave in your hands."

"First, I have an agent who would be thrilled to talk to you," Ken stated dryly. Well, he could probably arrange some private time for Takeru to grill Oikawa too. It was the least he could do. "Now, how would they know where to find you?"

Oikawa turned his back to Ken, only to pull the hair away from the back of the neck and lean back far enough for Ken to notice a clearly surgical scar between the bony ridges of two vertebrae. When he was certain to have gotten a good look, Oikawa returned to his former posture and continued. "We all have internal chips where I come from, little boy. It's powered by the body's own electricity and can only be removed by a professionally trained neurosurgeon. It acts as an internal homing beacon. They're going to track it like wolves on the warpath, and the only way to turn it off is to kill me. So, we're down to three choices: either you let me go or kill me, or you keep me and they'll come down on this place with more force than you could ever imagine. Regardless of your choice, you'll never get your answers from me."

.*.

Secrets were something Takeru was familiar with, for he had his own. But some secrets shouldn't be hidden, especially when there was the very real danger that hiding such secrets would be tantamount to inviting trouble with a giant pink banner. He didn't like the very idea of doing this, but he needed answers and Ken was unlikely to grant them. So, the moment he knew no one was around, he began digging through Ken's personal files.

There was no one named Oikawa in the files for the past five years, so he ignored his own file and looked further. None for ten years either. At fifteen years, there was a civilian computer programmer at the base named Oikawa Yukio. Oikawa had been offered sanctuary from the plague by names that were probably high-ranking government officials at the time and granted permission to bring five other people. There was mention of some top secret project Oikawa was working on, but nothing definite was given. Other than that, there was nothing to suggest that Oikawa had ever been anyone of particular importance to the base's command structure. But then how could Oikawa--

"Takeru, what do you think you're doing," a familiar voice called to him from the office door. He spun, file still in hand, to find Sora gazing at him in disappointment. "We're working for a world where every citizen's rights would be respected. That includes privacy."

Takeru sighed. He didn't want to get into an argument with Sora, but it seemed inevitable. Maybe he could diffuse the situation by sharing his observations, though. It was worth a shot. "The people that man was with, they had a _helicopter_. A big, black, mean _helicopter_ that only a military would have. We don't even have anything like that here. He's working for _someone's_ military, and I'd really like to know whose."

Sora began nibbling on her lower lip in worry. "Do you have any idea what you're implying?"

"I may have been naive as a kid, but I'm not stupid."

"Military!" Impeding horror began seeping into Sora's voice. "Military means a command structure, training, artillery, vehicles..." Her eyes fixed on Takeru's. "They have a helicopter, and probably more where that came from. Possibly bombs."

Takeru grimaced at the dark path his thoughts were wending through. "And if Oikawa is important enough to retrieve, they probably wouldn't hesitate to drop a few of those bombs on us."

They regarded each other silently, not liking the subject one bit, but unable to stray from it. Although Takeru was tempted to run to Ken and demand Oikawa be turned over, he considered another facet in the matter. Back during the Vandemon fiasco, anything with electrical equipment that drew near the Digital World's exposed sky shorted out on contact and fell away harmlessly. Maybe they had a chance.

.*.

Jianliang broke into a run the moment he left the stairwell and was on the residential floor. They were all in danger and it was Takeru's fault and he _knew_ he had been right about Takeru, but if only anyone ever paid attention to him! Once he was in the solitude of his personal quarters, he turned to his work area.

To say that Jianliang was paranoid when it came to the protection of the base was something of an understatement. Like many outsiders, he had been recruited by Urazoe Kai and allowed to bring along his siblings. Unlike them, he had insinuated himself deeper into the confidences of the Powers That Be than most people could imagine. He was loyal to the old guard, that which had been in power before Ken ascended the throne, and was still loyal to the cause that Osamu had championed before... then. They believed that the best way to survive was to remain isolated. The outside world didn't matter. But then Osamu disappeared, Ken took up the throne, and divided loyalties ran rampant amongst Iwakuni's population when Ken started looking to the outside world.

Steel grey eyes drifted over to one of the bookshelves in his quarters, upon which stood an old photograph they'd taken together before Osamu's disappearance. It was just the three of them standing together in front of the base's gates: Osamu near the left of the photo, his informant in the center, himself on the right. The too-rare smile Osamu gave the camera was tired, his nerves clearly strained by the stress of single-handedly picking up the pieces of civilization and trying to keep order in a world where chaos governed outside. Towards the end of his reign he only smiled in the presence of those close to him. In the center was Osamu's best friend, beaming at the camera with a protective arm around Osamu's shoulders as if he had forgotten his guilt and his world consisted only of them. As if he wasn't indirectly responsible for the downfall of eight worlds. Standing just a bit apart from them was the younger Jianliang. He couldn't remember what he was thinking back then, only that it had brought a slight frown to his face and he didn't think to hide it until after Ken had taken the picture. Jealousy over a friendship that went much deeper than he'd ever experienced, displeasure with being the third wheel? It didn't matter anymore. Nothing so pointless mattered in the face of what happened after Osamu left the base and never returned.

Osamu's friend returned to the base many months later, clearly changed and unwilling to speak about what had happened. Ken, whom he suspected was content with occupying Osamu's throne, accused the man of getting Osamu killed when he didn't say anything and then requested that Jianliang toss the man out and keep him out. However, Jianliang knew things that Ken did not. In the following months Osamu's friend kept flitting in and out of the base, despite Jianliang's best attempts to keep him out. The man dropped hints of what would happen in the outside world, beginning with "God says..." The predictions were too accurate for him to dismiss the man as insane like everyone else did. The man walked into a trap Jianliang had devised one day acting as if he had expected it, and when Jianliang asked for the truth...

What does one do when one's belief of what reality was turns out to be wrong? A mistake? The greatest mistake ever made, and it had been an attempt by an all-too-powerful entity to make the man _happy_ by having three realities united as one! Jianliang couldn't believe it at first. How could he? How could he accept that there was another universe where all the adults in the world never died? This reality was all he knew. It would have been too easy to dismiss it all as the ravings of a madman, but he knew Osamu's friend well enough to detect a lie if there was one. Then he asked for evidence and received it.

The special edition Colt M1911 pistol lay in a velvet-lined box hidden in the locked drawer of his personal desk. Blue-stained steel, elegant brass accents, hickory panelling. A true beauty of a gun and impossible to find in Japan. Pinned under its box were magazines from a Spring 2015 in a universe where the adults had never died and their aged faces looked up from National Geographic photos. No one in this world would ever see them, because there were some secrets that no one should be burdened with.

Fingers strengthened by years of martial arts and maintaining the base's security systems reached into the drawer to pull out the gun, this treasure from another time and place. The magazine slid into place with a final click to secure it to the pistol, and he held it up to his desk lamp for consideration as he went over what he needed to do.

Iwakuni Base had to be protected at all costs, even from itself. With the distinct sense of doom for his personal future at the base, Jianliang trotted with renewed purpose down the corridors. He was almost at the stairwell when he recognized the taller form of Osamu's friend. The Wanderer. His double agent. Once the man had answered to the name Akiyama Ryo, but that was many years ago.

"Let me handle this, Jen. You don't know what you're getting into," the double agent murmured lightly. "The darkness in him is similar to the darkness in me. It would not allow a simple bullet to kill its host any more than my own darkness would let me join the dead."

Jianliang said nothing. Once he would have questioned the man outright, but the years had taught him that broadcasting his own thoughts was usually dangerous. With a nod he relented and decided that keeping his job another day would be better than staining his hands again.

.*.

Takeru was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that Oikawa was from Amaterasu's Cave and knew more than anyone he ever contacted. He needed to talk to the man regardless of how much time Ken still had left. He left Sora in Ken's office and ran back to the stairwell, skipped down a few levels, and he was soon back at the sealed-off part of the base. A few taps on the keypad (he watched carefully when Jianliang had input the code earlier) and he was in.

Neither Ken or Oikawa moved much from their previous positions. He slipped in quietly, and Ken gave him the faintest of nods as acknowledgement.

"You're running out of time. All of you," Oikawa said. "They'll come for me."

Bewildered, Takeru glanced from one man to the other. "Who?"

Ken smirked and gestured to the captive. "Takaishi Takeru, meet Oikawa Yukio, our guest from Amaterasu. I trust you'll want to question him."

"Takaishi?" Oikawa's voice sounded surprised. "Natsuko's brat?"

The world had just turned upside down once again for Takeru, but he _knew_ he had to pursue this _now_. "You know her? How? Where is she?"

Rather than answer him, Oikawa shot them both a condescending glare. "I know more than you're ready to learn, little boy. For fifteen years you children have been trapped in your own Purgatory, content to contemplate your navels and angst over your past. You screwed up, so we're coming back out. The new world will be built to respect the trappings of power again, to recognize the virtues of discipline and following orders. If you don't release me, it starts now."

"Bold threats, Oikawa. Are you sure you can carry them through?" Ken's voice returned to that low, dangerous tone.

"I know this place has radar. Why don't you have one of your little playmates look for you?" Oikawa's lips curled into a cruel smile. "But then, you never had friends, did you?"

Ken snarled and turned abruptly to pick up a hand radio that only worked within the base. "Shaochung? This is Ken. Could you take a moment from the digimon to look at the radar?"

"Momantai, Ken." Even over the crackle of the radio static, Takeru could just faintly hear a few digimon in the background and the girl saying something or another to them. A moment later they all heard the gasp of surprise. "Uh, is this a joke? Very bad joke if it is."

The anger washed from Ken completely. "It's not. What do you see?"

"Dammit! Lopmon, _please_ get the kids under control! Sorry, Ken. Anyway, from the looks of it... Five aircraft, armed and steadily approaching from the north. Who the hell did you piss off?" Everyone could hear the worry in the girl's voice over the radio's static.

"Thank you, Shaochung. I want you to go to the public announcement system and keep me apprised. And before you start, I am fully aware of the repercussions I'll get from the council." Ken sounded unnaturally calm, as if he was ready to break any minute.

For a moment there was no answer from the youngest Li. When she did speak, it was with respect. "Your funeral, but I'll be singing praises of your courage. I'll be on in five."

Ken flipped off the radio switch, glared daggers at Oikawa, and ran. For the briefest moment Takeru was torn between staying behind and grilling Oikawa or following Ken. Somehow he _knew_ Ken was going to do something stupid, so the interrogation would have to wait.

"Good evening, people of Iwakuni," Shaochung began in a deceptively bright tone over the P.A. "Most of you are familiar with the fact that I manage the Digimon Room. Which is a swell job if you ignore the floramon and don't have allergies, but I have another job too. Right before me is the radar system, and eighty kilometers away are five nasty military aircraft bearing down on us. Now it's entirely likely that they'll just pass us over for our friendly neighbors to the south, but it's better to be safe than sorry. At Ken's request, I'll begin the countdown for their arrival."

For some reason, it sounded far too much like a countdown to doomsday.

.*.

In the beginning, he had hoped to wait in the shadows until Oikawa could complete his life's work and access the Digital World. He would then simply kill the host, return to his world, and reclaim it. Then something happened to blow his plans out of the water and force him to consider new ones. Just before the plague had gotten out, the gates to the Digital World were shut down completely. Oikawa's viewing programs could not even connect to it. All over the world, data systems went awry and he had no idea of the cause.

Naturally, Vamdemon was frustrated. Without access to the Digital World, he would not be able to take over the other planes of existence. For ten long years he had to wait in the back of Oikawa's mind, dictating the man's actions and manipulating his thoughts. There was some enjoyment in feeding off the rage generated towards his host by such games as the one he played with the Ichijouji boy, but it was a paltry substitute for what he had hoped to acquire by now. He wanted blood. Beautiful, thick, iron-rich blood to slake his thirst and fuel his body. It would be useless to try while he was still in Oikawa's body, however.

Then, five years ago, Oikawa's viewing programs could look into the Digital World again. What they saw was not the Digital World he knew. It looked like someone had taken three different Digital Worlds and smashed them together without regard for the consequences. The false digimon scouts Oikawa deployed came back with puzzling tales. It was said that the culprit responsible for the circumstances leading up to the plague in the real world and the strange merging of the Digital Worlds had to serve out his punishment for what amounted to ten years in the real world. The culprit was buried in the desert and his power reallocated to the repair of the Digital World. At the end of his sentence, he was turned over to another prison. Rumor said his name was Millenniumon and he had a human partner.

Vamdemon could feel the power drawing near him even now. It was a power greater than his own, greater than Demon. It came through the door and Vamdemon half-expected it to belong to an undoubtedly nasty digimon. He was rather taken aback when it turned out to be a human. Or, more specifically, a digimon spirit sharing a human body.

"Ah, a kindred spirit at last," he uttered to the human prison of what he was certain had to be Millenniumon.

The human gave a breathy, shallow laugh at that. After a moment of what was sure to be a bit of internal conversation, the human closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. Black shadows collected in the air until they formed a ghostly draconic digimon. The bodiless digimon turned to regard Vamdemon with red eyes. "You are hardly in my league, Vamdemon. However, I must admit that your enthusiasm amuses me. You try so hard for something you can never attain. It is a remarkable trait. Almost human, in fact."

Vamdemon narrowed his eyes at the comment. His, not Oikawa's. Oikawa's personality had long since been locked away into a corner of his own mind. "Do not insult me."

"It is not an insult unless you wish it to be one. That was always your problem." The black shadow chuckled at him again. "Not just your problem. It is the failing of most of our kind."

"I care not for the rambling of a mad digimon." Vamdemon allowed his voice to drip with pure condescension. Regardless of Millenniumon's power, he did not take well to being spoken to so rudely.

"That is such a pity. You could learn much from me." Red eyes bored into him, stoking Vamdemon's irritation in the process. "You will fail now as you have failed before. Do you know why?"

Disgust welled up within Vamdemon. He suspected where this discussion was going to go, but certainly did not enjoy it. "No. Care to enlighten me?"

The black shadow hummed in pleasure and drifted over to his host and partner. "Your problem, and the problem with most evil digimon, is that you fail to realize the full potential of humanity. They created us and our world. Even with their limited senses and physical capacity, they build great things. They create as well as destroy, infect and cure. They _are_ the balance of light and dark."

He had heard of Millenniumon's unusual attraction to humans from the rumors before, but it was something else entirely to be confronted with it. It made him sick with revulsion. To him, humans were lesser creatures. Prey. Something to be fed upon, not... "What are you getting at?"

"You and the others only pursue darkness and destruction. It is all you care for. Nature cares not for absolutes." The black shadow turned his attention to the silent, somewhat bored-looking human beside him and reached out with one ethereal claw to brush away a stray forelock in a gesture that could almost be described as affectionate. "Nature does, however, extol the virtues of blending. Darkness and Light are most powerful when they act as one. Embrace the Light and the worlds can be yours."

With a very clear sneer on his face, Vamdemon responded. "As I understand it, you not only embrace the Light but consort with it on a regular basis. Disgusting traitor."

The human snickered at him and Millenniumon seemed to share the amusement. "Sounds familiar, Mille."

"History does have a habit of repeating itself, does it not? Nevertheless," the black shadow turned to face Vamdemon in full, "very few ever pay much attention to it. Pity. You had potential, Vamdemon, but you always manage to find some way to cripple yourself. Every time you succeed in raising yourself to a formidable position, the forces of Light end up knocking you from your pedestal. It must be quite tiresome."

"This, of course, coming from the so-called 'evil god' who plays games with a human child." Vamdemon knew he was working purely from rumors now, but didn't particularly care. "If you were truly committed to taking over the Digital World, you would have done so several times over by now."

"I did, but it got boring. There is only so much you can do with a world before you start wanting some little upstart to come along and challenge you. Not that you would ever know, of course." Millenniumon gave a light, breathy laugh again. "In time, everything I did was to get my partner's attention. You would be surprised at how oblivious he can be."

The human frowned at that but said nothing. Vamdemon would have liked nothing more than to break the man's neck, if only to stop Millenniumon from laughing at him. "Even the slaying of eight worlds?"

"How ever did you come to that conclusion," Millenniumon asked in honest curiosity. He ignored the glower the human shot at him.

"I was familiar with the human world by the time the pandemic came, but something changed. People and buildings appeared that hadn't existed before. Security systems reacted differently or didn't act at all, as if they were made on another world and not programmed to respond to data from this world. The Digital World was inaccessible, even from Oikawa's viewing programs. After a few years, he managed to get enough visual data in for me to realize that the Digital World had changed as well. Four or more different systems smashed together as it the culprit had no care as to how they went together so long as it was done." Pure distaste laced Vamdemon's voice. "From your _behavior_ around your partner, I suspect I am correct in assuming that this was done for his sake."

The shadow that was Millenniumon just tilted his head slightly and regarded Vamdemon in thought. "Very good. It seems you have more intelligence than I suspected. It is not entirely accurate, but you came closer than anyone else in finding the truth."

Vamdemon was immediately suspicious. Their kind did not hold discussions like this unless _something_ else was going to happen. That was just the way things worked. He scanned the room ever so subtly to make sure he had a way of getting out. He loathed the idea of running, but he still didn't have much power and it was better to be alive than dead. Until then, he would distract the other digimon. His kind was always fond of exposition, especially when it would emphasize their brilliance. "What is the truth? Surely you're not here for a chat, so I might as well ask before you kill me off."

"Let's just do what we came here to do, Mille," the human reminded his partner. "You can ramble to me later."

"Must I?" The shadow turned to look at his partner with a disappointment that seemed almost childish. "Can I at least make it bloody?"

The human looked like he wanted to scowl at his partner, but kept his face carefully neutral. "We agreed on a quick, simple heart attack. But if you absolutely must, I can't really stop you. Just don't take several days like you did with Demon."

The disgust within Vamdemon flared to life again as he listened to the exchange. This was a travesty of everything an evil digimon was supposed to be. They wouldn't have been caught dead talking to a human as if it was an equal, let alone asking for _permission_ to do something. But then the so-called evil god of the Digital World turned back to him, and the disgust settled into something cold and unfamiliar. Millenniumon actually looked _cheerful._

"Death Crystal," the bass that was Millenniumon's voice whispered. The air crystallized into four spears around Vamdemon. Before he could act, before he could even think, they drove into his host's body in a manner that would ensure that no one could survive. As he felt Oikawa's life ebbing away from the body, Vamdemon snarled and returned to his own shadow existence. He could find another host and find time to plot just how he would exact vengeance upon Millenniumon for daring to do this to _him_.

His essence slipped past the sealed door of the isolation room and into the observation area. There was no way they would be able to attack him when he had no body now, he was sure. Then something happened that he could find no words for. The human muttered something and pulled out a simple crystal from his robes. It tugged at Vamdemon's essence, and the more he struggled against it the stronger its hold became. He was being drawn into it and there was nothing he could do to get away. It had taken barely a few seconds before he found himself trapped in the crystal.

"We'll be turning you over to Gennai for overwriting," the human said in an all too pleasant tone. The cold, unfamiliar feeling grew. Data could be reborn if deleted or reformatted, but to be overwritten was true digital death. He struggled harder against the crystal, only to stop when it began constricting against him. "But before we do that, I need to talk to Oikawa."

Vamdemon snarled at the human's behavior, raged against what had been done to him, wished a million deaths upon Millenniumon, but it was all futile.

When the human spoke again, it was with some amount of sympathy to Vamdemon's host. "Oikawa? You're going to die, but death isn't so bad. You're free of Vamdemon now. It may be little comfort for you to know this, but in another universe, you met your digimon partner and your soul reached the Digital World to be reformatted as one of the protective spheres."

For the first time in many years, Oikawa's true voice was heard, despite the crystal spears driven through the majority of his vital organs. "Thank you, child."

No words were spoken until Oikawa died. The shadow that was Millenniumon muttered something about useless sentimentality before returning to his own host. Vamdemon would be returned to the Digital World, but as a prisoner instead of conqueror.

.*.

Takeru followed Ken to his office in what he was sure was a race against time. When Ken began retrieving a handgun from a previously locked drawer in his desk, Takeru had to step in.

"What are you doing?"

"I am doing what I have to do to protect the base." Ken paused to slide a magazine clip into the gun. "He has a locator chip, Takeru. It'll keep broadcasting his location until he's _dead_."

He had to keep Oikawa alive long enough to find out what he could about Amaterasu's Cave. "We can take them, Ken."

"Don't be stupid. We're not ready for this kind of invasion." Ken tried to shove past Takeru, but the blond just wouldn't have it. He pulled Ken back into the room.

"You're not ready because you waited too long," Takeru ground out. "But you have everything here already. I _know_ we can take them!"

Ken stepped back and glared coldly at Takeru. "Do you want a war? Is that it? Imagine this: Tanks in rice paddies, missiles versus bows and arrows. _That_ is the kind of war that awaits if we don't kill him _now_."

"But you do have a weapon on your hands that they don't. Digimon." Takeru was certain that the digimon would be their ace in the hole in case war was inevitable.

Ken blinked in surprise at Takeru. "You sound like my brother."

"What do you mean," Takeru asked. That comment seemed to come out of nowhere.

A grimace appeared on Ken's face at the question. "You didn't actually believe the rumors about why he got rid of the bombs, did you?" At Takeru's blank countenance, he sighed and continued. "It was propaganda to make him look good. He got rid of the bombs because they left too much of a mess, but said that if war did come, we could use digimon because they would be more accurate weapons."

Shaochung's voice sounded over the public announcement system just then. "Choppers are thirty kilometers away and closing in. If you're religious, you might want to pray for a miracle."

Ken's eyes went wide at the pronouncement, then he ran with the gun still in hand. Takeru cursed under his breath and followed. They raced down the stairwell and back into the sealed-off corridor in the base's depths.

"Wait, guys," Shaochung began. Her voice had a distinctively quizzical tone. "Choppers are holding at ten kilometers. Holding... No, now they've turned and going back." Her sigh of relief could be heard over the system. If one really listened in, muffled cheers from the digimon could be heard in the background.

Puzzled, Ken shot Takeru a quick, unreadable look and opened the door to the isolation room. Once in, they noticed something very wrong. Even though the sealed door hadn't been touched, blood splattered the walls inside. Oikawa laid in a bloody mess, but there were no bullets lying around or other piercing weapons available. Other than the blood and body, the isolation room was just as it had been before.

Takeru refused to give in to despair. Oikawa knew of his mother, so she _had_ to be at Amaterasu's Cave. It was up north somewhere. They were going to find it, even if it did take a war.

.*.

Daisuke woke up with what would have been one hell of a hangover if he had been drinking. Instead it was just an awful headache and the worst case of foul mouth he'd ever had. All he could remember was running into a bakumon and getting breathed upon. After that was some weird dream and here he was in his own bed. He mumbled dourly as he got out of bed to clean his teeth.

Strangely enough, he found a note taped to his bathroom mirror. It asked him to take care of V-mon for the author, and at the end was something that looked like it would have been a signature if it hadn't been stopped abruptly mid-kanji and scratched over to the point where it was unrecognizable. He wondered at that briefly, but shrugged it off and cleaned up.

An hour later he found himself attending a meeting with Ken and the others. He hated meetings so very, very much. What was it with this place and meetings? They sat around that table with the map on it and sipped teas as Sora went over yesterday's events. Daisuke entertained himself by pushing a pen cap around Korea. Then, as his pen cap/ship was in Seoul, Ken stood to speak.

"Takeru asked me a few days ago if I knew anything about Fractal Theory," he began. Daisuke looked up in surprise. He didn't actually expect Ken to address the peculiar question. Ken paused to lay a print-out of some sort of blob in the middle of the table. "This is a Mandelbrot fractal. To the layman it just looks like a pretty picture. However, it is a picture rendered entirely from mathematical equations. Every line and arc in the picture is generated from a set of numbers. If you look closely at it, each part is not impressive on its own, but from a distance, one may recognize the beauty of the whole. Fractal Theory teaches us that beauty comes from chaos, and the greater the chaos, the greater the beauty that comes from it."

"But what about 'strange attractors,'" Takeru asked from the Hokkaido end of the table.

"They are points in the fractal that every incident generates around. No one knows why they occur, but they are there nonetheless. Some theorists think that the existence of strange attractors is the scientific proof of the existence of God, as suggested by the Deist viewpoint of God as the blind watchmaker." At Takeru's half-frown, Ken shrugged. "I don't subscribe to the idea myself, but there you go.

"Now, as you all may have noticed, the world outside is steeped in greater chaos than the history of mankind has ever known. If we play this right, we have a chance to bring on a renaissance. Amaterasu is going to be knocking on our door again soon enough, but I want us to be ready. We are going to come out into the open and announce our existence to the world. We are going to organize things and get the world back on its feet, because we can't take on Amaterasu alone. If we have allies, we can beat them. It's going to be hard and people won't believe us, but we have to work for the future. _They_ had their chance and look at how it turned out: exploitation of the people, corporate greed, government infringement on the rights of individuals. Amaterasu wants to bring about a totalitarian society, and I will _not_ let that happen while we still have a fighting chance.

"As of now, all teams will endeavor to recruit people to our cause, inform other leaders of our offer of alliance, and gather intelligence. The more organized we are, the better a chance we have. We must choose our future before others do it for us."

With that, Ken returned to his seat. Murmurs of agreement sounded all around, then a click sounded from over near the Beijing area of China, where Shaochung was sitting. For some reason she was taking over for Jianliang, who claimed illness as an excuse to avoid the meeting. When all eyes turned to her, she gave them all a far too innocent look and went back to pushing her own pen cap around on the table. After that, the meeting turned to organizing agent missions and no one thought about the click.

When the meeting was done and over with, Daisuke made a beeline to Ken (seated over at the Russian corner of the map) and gave the man a hearty thump on the back. "I knew you were a good person," he said honestly. Ken smiled briefly at that and rose from his seat.

At that moment, Sora opened the door to the outside corridor, which was usually empty. Now, however, it was packed with people. Sora glanced back in bewilderment, and all eyes turned to Shaochung. She gave a nonchalant shrug. "I left the P.A. system on. Whoops. I just realized that when Ken stopped babbling and turned it off."

Ken was just moving to rebuke her for the lapse in security when the crowd at the door saw him, and anything he said was drowned out by applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, neither Ryo or Millenniumon are taking over the story. In fact, they aren't scheduled to come back until much later. As should be quite obvious by now, Ken here is neither the overly repentant doormat in the later half of 02 or the Kaiser. He's simply a conglomeration of both and I was hoping to convey that with his anger with Vamdemon!Oikawa. Also hoping I portrayed Vamdemon accurately, but he was never my favorite villain. Sorry if I didn't.


	10. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the effort to gather allies for Iwakuni, Takeru and Daisuke liberate a village from Raiders.

At times Ken wondered at whether or not it was all calculated in advanced. Shaochung was mischievous, true, but the cunning it took to get Naomi to craft for her a two-way radio that was linked to the public announcement system and then wait for Ken to work out an inspiring speech during the private meeting of close advisors was something he would not have expected of her. Did Jianliang put her up to this? If so, why? He knew Jianliang wasn't fond of him, so the notion was set to the side as he mulled over other theories. Unfortunately, the only one that made sense was that Jianliang was somehow behind it, but any questioning was met with denial.

Intended or not, her conniving turned public opinion in his favor. The near-attack of Amaterasu forced everyone to realize that they couldn't hide from the outside anymore. Despite the fact that he was acting without consulting the council, he was too popular right now for them to call him on his initiative. Well, most of them let it go for now, anyway. One surely hadn't.

The antagonistic tension between him and Hida Iori was always there in one form or another. Iori thought he was too opportunistic and flouted convention when it suited him; he always thought of Iori as hide-bound, unforgiving, and intransigent. Iori believed in strict adherence to the letter of the law, even if the spirit was somewhat different. Philosophical discussions usually blew up spectacularly and either one or both of them would stalk out in a rage. It didn't surprise Ken that Iori was being groomed to replace him by the more extreme members of the Isolationist faction.

What did surprise him, however, was that Iori would confront him. They mostly kept the head-butting to the meetings, but for some reason Iori saw a need to accost him while he had his nose in a book. It was a very good book, too.

"Ichijouji, don't you think it's time to stop acting like a child and grow up," Iori began with just the kind of tone he always took when he was scolding someone. It was exacerbated by the use of Ken's surname. Few people ever used surnames nowadays.

Ken knew he was being needlessly sarcastic, but this was a man who always got the worst reactions out of him. "That's rich coming from someone who's younger than me. What are you here to nag to me about now?"

The slight narrowing of green eyes suggested that his rival was restraining himself from snapping back. "Your agents brought in a prisoner of war, brought attention to the base, and endangered us all. Don't you think that's a bit careless?" When Ken said nothing, Iori continued. "And did you consult the council about a course of action? No! You _know_ you must consult the council before taking any major actions that concern the base, yet you constantly ignore the rule your own brother set to paper!"

"And my brother was a much better leader, of course." Deep inside, the resentment welled up again. It was his inner monster, chained in darkness and neglected until someone brought up how much better his brother was. It then reared up and strained against his conscience. "I would think I knew my own brother better than you or the rest of the council ever did, and I certainly know he didn't intend for his constitution to be followed to the letter without consideration to the spirit of the words behind them."

"Regardless, you should stop acting as if your opinions are the only ones that matter," Iori ground out.

Ken's voice rose in frustration. _Why_ couldn't Iori see things the way he did? "In the time it would have taken to alert the council, get a meeting running and hold votes, the helicopters would have invaded and have us all executed!"

In the midst of his own frustration, Iori's voice rose as well. "That's not what I mean and you know it!"

Secretly satisfied that Iori allowed himself to lose ground by letting anger take hold, Ken chose to respond calmly. "In case you've forgotten, there's a section in the constitution saying that as duly elected Caesar, I _am_ allowed to make such decisions in emergency situations."

"Holding secret meetings with your agents instead of consulting the council first does not fall into that ruling!" Iori scowled darkly at him. "Didn't the idea even cross your mind?"

For the briefest moment, Ken fantasized about strangling the shorter man. He shoved the mental image away with a grunt of disgust. "In case you haven't been paying attention, there is a wolf out there ready to blow our house into a pile of sticks. We can't sit with our fingers in our ears and pretend the outside world doesn't exist. If we don't get reinforcements, we might as well sign over every notion of personal freedom we have."

Iori gave his own grunt of disgust at the argument. "There are options other than fighting-"

"Pacificism isn't going to help," Ken interjected. His voice rose again, but he no longer cared it looked like he was starting to lose his temper. "Those people were ready to take us out if someone hadn't killed Oikawa!"

Silence fell between them then. Iori regarded him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Then, before it got too uncomfortable, the man meant to be his replacement let out a small sigh. "You're hopeless if you can see no other alternative."

"The same could be said of you," Ken retorted.

Iori said nothing after that. Ken was given one last unreadable look before his opponent stalked away, leaving him with the vague yet unsettling feeling that he had lost. It was ridiculous. People who abducted innocent children, burned entire settlements, and came down on a mostly-defenseless base with armored helicopters were _not_ going to agree to any treaties. He knew this. Why didn't Iori?

And how much further could he go before Iori took his place?

.*.

The agents were under new orders. When once the digimon would have ridden with the blanket on hand in case anyone came close enough to see them, they were now free to join their human partners in their assignments. Ken's rationale was that people responded best to a show of power. Iwakuni didn't have massive tanks and no one could fly the fighter jets, but they did have digimon. The agents were to check out other towns and settlements, offer assistance to get back on their feet in exchange for promises to come to the aid of Iwakuni if requested, and report back to base if there was good potential for an alliance. They were not to mention where they were actually from until they knew their new allies could be trusted. In the event that they found a trustworthy ally, they would bring their ally back to base and escort them around.

In pursuit of this new course of action, even retired agents went back on the field. When Daisuke learned that Jun was included in this, he fought the decision. Sure Jun was going to be with her old partner, one Li Lianjie, and Penmon and Gazimon for company, but he _insisted_ that Jun stay where it was safe. Jun pointed out that "safe" was a concept that didn't really apply to this world anymore, then Daisuke stalked out in frustration. It was a stupid thing to argue about, but Jun was the only family he had and he didn't want to lose her again.

"Older siblings are _so_ pig-headed," he grumbled aloud to no one in particular. He didn't really expect a response.

V-mon, however, thought otherwise. "But Jun's been doing this sort of thing a lot longer than you, Dais'ke."

"Doesn't matter," he groused. "I've found her again and I don't want to lose her. I don't care if that Lianjie guy is with her. How do we know we can trust him? If he's anything like his little brother..."

Takeru shot him a curious glance. He hadn't bothered to get involved in the sibling argument, but the offhand comment about one of the Li family members caught his attention. "What do you mean?"

A corner of Daisuke's lips turned down in thought. "Remember when I turned up in that isolation room they kept Oikawa in? And remember just before Ken lost it and started yelling at us? Oikawa and Jianliang looked at each other like they've met before. And it was different from when Oikawa and Ken recognized each other, 'cause Oikawa said _nothing_ to Jianliang. At _all_. It's as if..."

"As if he's a double agent?" Takeru grimaced, but kept his eyes on the road. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be if he was?"

"No shit! He knows everything about the base!" With a grimace at the direction his thoughts were taking, Daisuke continued. "If Oikawa hadn't been killed, do you think Jianliang would've opened the doors for those choppers?"

For a few moments, Takeru didn't respond. When he did, it was with some hesitation. "I don't know. Ken's smart and I'm sure he wouldn't have kept Jianliang on if he was that much of a danger."

Daisuke offered no response. He wanted to believe that Ken was infallible, but-

"This probably sounds like it's out of nowhere, but Jianliang and I had a conversation once. Sort of." Takeru's brows furrowed slightly in the effort to recall the exact words. "He said that there are greater powers out there than we know of, and he's trying to keep Ken in power because he has to protect the base at all cost."

"What do you think?"

"I think that, if Jianliang is a double agent, he's not working for Amaterasu. Where would he find the time to do his job at the base _and_ play double agent?" Takeru took a moment to pause and arrange the rest of his thoughts in order. "According to Sora, he came to the base ten years ago, but didn't actually become head of security until seven years ago. In the three years between, he might have run into Oikawa. So, I don't think he's a spy. I do think he probably has a double agent of his own."

Daisuke blinked curiously at him. He sort of vaguely remembered being dragged to his room by an oddly familiar-looking man in Ainu garb. Blue eyes, like the Wanderer... who spoke in riddles and called himself "Time, unlimited." "I think I know who it might be."

"I do too. Autumn-toned Ainu robes, keeps saying 'God says' and disappears into thin air," Takeru asked, even though he was certain of the answer. Daisuke's nod only confirmed his suspicions. "Next time either of us see him, we're going to hold him down until we get some answers. Deal?"

Daisuke gave his assent and fell silent. He still didn't like the situation, but it was good to talk to someone else about what was on his mind. It wasn't like he was good at holding things in, but he had enough sense to realize that voicing his suspicions while he was still in the base was likely to stir up more shit than they could deal with at the moment. Ken already had the council to deal with and wouldn't appreciate having to investigate an accusation of treason.

"Where are we going, Takeryu," Patamon asked cheerfully, probably in an effort to get another conversation started.

"I had this thought," Takeru began, "that if we're to gather allies, we should try to get the old crew together first. If I can get the Yagamis to join us, Mimi would probably go along too. I don't know what kind of situation Mimi is in, but the last time I saw Hikari she had a congregation willing to follow her to the ends of the earth. Taichi will go wherever Hikari goes, and I'm hoping that Taichi's involvement might get Yamato's attention. If Yamato agrees, I'm willing to bet he can convince some of his fans to join us."

As Patamon bubbled delightedly at the opportunity to see Tailmon again, Daisuke stared at Takeru in surprise. For some reason it seemed like religion was a touchy subject with Takeru, so why would he be friends with a priestess? There were more practical things to consider, though. "We'll still be trying to get support from people other than your old buddies, right?" At Takeru's questioning glance, he rushed to continue. "I mean, not that it's a bad thing, but you shouldn't put all your eggs in one hen. Right?"

Takeru looked at him like he had grown eye stalks before responding. "'Basket,' Daisuke. Shouldn't pull all the eggs in one basket."

"Details!" He dismissed the correction with an exaggerated wave of his hands.

"But you're right. I thought we should seek out the old Chosen Children, but make the proposition to the settlements along the way. Reasonable?"

Daisuke nodded and returned to staring at the map. It wasn't their normal pre-Apocalypse map. It had been composed of the reports from prior agents, with New World names given in bold and Old World names within parentheses. Raider camps were marked with red x's, independent settlements in green, Iwakuni in blue, and uncharted territories were shaded in with light pencil scratches. The uncharted regions were the entirety of Hokkaido and most of the north part of the Honshu island, as well as the Shikoku and Kyushu islands. Daisuke knew the northern regions were Ainu territory, but who occupied the southern regions? He'd never been down there.

"What are we closest to," Takeru asked, and effectively derailed Daisuke's train of thought in the process.

With a hum, Daisuke scanned the map until he spotted the highway they were on and how many days away they were from base. "Haku mountain. Map says there's a small settlement there."

"En route to the Noto peninsula, right?"

"Yeah," Daisuke said as he folded the map back up. "What's there?"

"Hikari and Tailmon and Taichi and Agumon," Patamon chirped happily.

Takeru took a hand off the wheel to give Patamon a pat on the head. "What he said. That's where they usually are during the spring." As a concession to Daisuke, he added: "But we'll stop off at Haku first."

.*.

Formerly home to Hakusan National Park, the region around Haku mountain was heavily wooded. Tree roots broke through road asphalt or broken limbs from past storms blocked the way. More than once, Takeru had to maneuver around particularly thick branches and broken trunks that couldn't be dragged aside. After much effort to navigate a highway reclaimed by the forests, they finally came to a smudge of civilization in the wilderness.

Firefly Village was more of a politely exaggerated name for the camp. It had once been a tourist information cabin and collection of campsite huts, but it was now a permanent home to several dozen people. Rusting, broken-down cars littered a parking lot that was slowly being broken apart by saplings and younger trees. A few native horses looked up fearlessly at the visitors before resuming their midday snack of hay stored in an old motorcycle sidecar. As the rover slowed to a stop, the local people drew out from their huts.

A teenage boy that seemed oddly familiar to Takeru stepped up from the crowd. The boy wore deerskin pants and a shirt of hand-woven goathair, but Takeru would have thought he'd remember someone dressed like that. Give the boy a pair of torn-up jeans and a too-large cotton t-shirt and...

"You survived," the boy started in surprise. Takeru was ready to open his mouth and ask, but then the boy turned to the villagers. "It's okay! They're safe!"

At Daisuke's questioning look, Takeru took a moment to explain as briefly as he could. "One of the survivors of Genki's 'demonstration.'" Understanding then dawned on Daisuke's face.

The boy nodded with some hesitation. "Gifu was a bad place to meet. I'm Makoto, leatherworker. Everyone just calls me Mako, though."

"Takeru," he said as he gave a short, rather awkward bow. "And that's Daisuke." Daisuke waved in greeting. "I'm a hunter and he just steals my food." His companion made an indignant noise that was met with snickers.

Mako gave a slight smile at that. "My sister's a hunter too. She would probably say the same thing."

As they talked, the crowd went back to their homes or tended to racks of smoked fish and leather waiting to be cured. Takeru noticed, to some surprise, someone who looked like a blacksmith working at a cold forge. "What do you do here?"

"Survive," Mako said simply. "Sometimes we take the surpluses and craft items to the larger towns for trade, but mostly we just go from one day to the next. And that reminds me, you should probably go."

Daisuke's eyes stopped wandering to fix on Mako in surprise. "But why? We can offer-"

"The raiders come here every month to make sure we fill out their commissions. Don't get me wrong, they don't harrass us or care if we get visitors, but if they see that truck of yours..." Mako trailed off in a vague implication that suggested he wasn't sure what would happen, but it was bound to be unpleasant.

Takeru glanced around for the moment to see if he could find a good hiding place. The rover was too well cared for to be passed off for one of the rusting vehicles and there just wasn't space in the forest to allow for something of the rover's size to pass through without breaking through brush.

"When are they due," Daisuke asked suddenly.

Mako shrugged. "Either tomorrow or the day after."

Daisuke caught Takeru's eyes and seemed to want to say something with his expression. However, the only thing that came to mind for Takeru was that maybe they should talk to someone in charge before the raiders came. He returned his attention to Mako. "We have a proposition for whoever's in charge."

"This place itself doesn't have a leader. We just wait for orders to come in from the raiders and work." A sudden, almost imperceptible gleam of mischief appeared in Mako's eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper. "But I'll be interested in hearing it once Ai gets back." Then, just as suddenly, Mako's voice returned to its usual pitch. "Oh, want to come see what I've been working on?"

Takeru gave a terse nod, followed shortly by a more vocal agreement from Daisuke. Then, much to the surprise of both nomads, Mako's gaze focused pointedly at the rover's seats. It had been out of habit that the digimon dived under their blanket at the last minute, but somehow the teenaged boy must have seen them. "Bring the digimon too."

.*.

There was a marked difference between the children old enough to still remember the old world and those who weren't more than toddlers at the time the Apocalypse arrived. Yamato pointed it out to Takeru once, a year or so before Takeru went on his own way. They were huddled together at a bar with a couple of mugs of herbal tea between them. "Look at those kids," Yamato muttered under his breath, "don't they look different?" Takeru shot a glance at the kids Yamato mentioned. Other than unruly hair and bright, happy grins, they looked no different from anyone else. That was the difference, Yamato said. This is _their_ world. They had no real idea what things were like before the Apocalypse. They didn't remember enough of their parents to miss them. Their flouting of traditional social conventions would have had the adults balking in horror. One of the kids, clearly male, wore a skirt and feather boa. Consorting with the boy was a girl who wore nothing but body paint and a pair of shorts. Their companions included a couple of other boys who were a bit too affectionate with each other and a very aggressive girl who was either trying to pick a brawl or find someone to warm her bed for the night. None of the younger kids cared about sexuality or gender identity. So long as they could stand up for themselves and provide for the adopted families, they were left well enough alone. Without the constraints of old world cultural norms, the new world children were free to become something unique.

That seemed to be the way things were with Mako and Ai. According to Mako, a digimon tried to take care of them when their parents died, but because the digimon knew nothing about how to care for human toddlers, he instead took them to a colony of macaques. For three years the macaques took care of the twins. They picked up certain behaviors from their monkey caretakers that weren't obvious until the twins were together, such as social grooming (which Mako explained as he picked through Ai's hair for leaves and twigs that might have fallen into it during the hunt) and a more self-conscious manner of moving around. They took care to make as little noise as possible and, if they had the desire to, could climb trees better than normal kids. They walked barefoot even when pressed otherwise, a trait physically evidenced by their wide-splayed toes and calluses. After they had reached five years of age, the digimon found a couple of Ainu-adopted girls to take them in. They learned the language with little difficulty, along with more human cultural characteristics, but still fell back on macaque habits when it suited them.

And then Mako went on to pick through Daisuke's hair, much to the others' amusement. It was a sign of acceptance, Ai reassured Daisuke. They didn't groom other people unless they liked them and accepted them as family. During this, Ai picked up the narrative. Yes they had a digimon, but he didn't often come out of hiding. It wasn't as if Impmon was shy, Ai pointed out, it was just that he didn't know quite how to deal with humans and would rather watch from afar than get involved.

Naturally, Takeru was perplexed. How could they have a digimon if they hadn't ever been to the Digital World or witnessed the Vandemon attack on Odaiba? Their digimon must have escaped the Digital World just before the Apocalypse and the shut-down of the world's computer systems, like Tsunomon and Poyomon had. Perhaps there were other digimon hiding out there, watching and waiting for some sign that said it was safe to come out.

Neither Ai or Mako knew of other digimon. The only digimon they had ever seen other than Impmon were V-mon and Patamon, whom they had been introduced to a few hours ago.

"There are _lots_ of digimon where I come from," V-mon mentioned helpfully. "They're just waiting for human partners."

Ai regarded him curiously. "Where are you from?"

"We can't give you the name," Takeru cut in before anyone else could spill valuable information, "but we're from a place where humans and digimon live together. What we're doing out here is trying to gather allies to help us maintain our current freedoms and, hopefully, be able to help you improve your own lives."

The twins' expressions were absolutely blank, as if Takeru had suddenly dropped into a detailed lecture on particle physics. Ai was quicker to ask for clarification. "What do you mean, 'improve our lives'? Our lives are perfect."

That which was the strength of those who didn't know the old world was also their greatest weakness. They didn't know things could be better or worse. They were content living in the here and now, where happiness was found in the simple things in life. Electricity, running water, medicine, and other such luxuries were as much an alien concept as socialism and totalitarianism. It was like explaining color to the blind, but Takeru had to try. "Are you okay with having the raiders around, or would you rather be free of them? Wouldn't being free of them be an improvement?"

"Yes, but they live the way they're comfortable with," Mako said. "Just like we're comfortable with the way we live. It's not our place to dictate other people's lives."

"But don't they dictate your's?"

A slightly uncomfortable expression appeared on Mako's face as he considered Takeru's question. "Yes, but-"

"But they don't have to," Daisuke said once he knew where Takeru was going. He'd been around raider-dominated camps before and knew what went on. "They can choose to live in peace like you, but they steal from other people and repress villages like this. How much of the local products go to them?"

"Most of them," a new voice spoke from the shadows beyond the hut's door. When everyone turned to figure out who was speaking, a dark-toned digimon stepped into the light. "Mako's best leathers and Ai's best deer. They harass Katsuharu all the time to fix broken metal parts."

"Impmon," Ai and Mako began together. "We've been over this before," Ai said on her own; "We don't want trouble," Mako finished off.

Impmon leaned against a doorjamb and crossed his arms, giving his partners a cool, somewhat bored look in the process. "See, when this sort of thing happens to digimon, they fight for their freedom."

"We're not digimon," Ai reminded her partner.

"You don't have to be," stated Daisuke, "because people fight for their freedom all the time."

The twins' partner regarded the newcomers thoughtfully for a moment, then: "I don't trust humans. I don't even _like_ most humans. But I'm tired of seeing my own partners having nowhere to call home. When they do find a great spot, they're unwilling to fight to keep it. Help them and we'll help you guys. Deal?"

Mako fidgeted nervously with Daisuke's hair. "But remember the last time I challenged someone for dominance..."

_Dominance_ was the word that alerted Takeru to the real problem. No wonder Mako was worried. He was thinking like a monkey. Challenges for dominance of a small colony were made by younger males to the older males, and usually the older males were stronger and more experienced. If a challenge failed, the younger male would be sent away from the colony. From the way Mako was acting, he had tried it before. Perhaps that was why he and Ai had ended up in Gifu.

"This isn't going to be a fight for dominance," Takeru pointed out as gently as he could, "this is a fight for freedom. You won't have to stand on your own."

Ai and Mako glanced at each other for a long, tense moment. While they said nothing in Japanese, soft, monkey-like sounds could be heard between them. It was not speech, per se, but it conveyed enough basic emotion to be understood as their own brand of communication. They ended on what sounded like a defeated tone from Mako and returned to a more human manner of behavior.

"Tell us what to do."

.*.

Katsuharu had once been a natural-born leader. He had enough charisma and understated strength for lesser bullies to flock under him. Then the Apocalypse came and something died inside. How could he order other kids around when he was powerless against the disease that took his parents and everything he held dear? How could he make others suffer when the disease taught him what real suffering was like?

If he had kept to what he used to be, he could have been big when the Clans started gathering. He could have had his own Clan with other kids obeying his every command. He could have taken anything he wanted. He would be Lord Katsuharu and he would have a banner and everything, but the idea of what it took to get to the top made him nauseous. Instead of becoming a leader, he became another transient. He wandered from place to place, wanting to settle down but unwilling to become enslaved by warlords who were what he could have been.

Then, one day, he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and caught a stray bullet from a firefight he was trying to skirt away from. It should have killed him. He went down in pain, only vaguely aware that the bullet had impacted with his left cheekbone and stayed there. Unconsciousness followed and he was left for dead.

In the fever dream that followed, he found himself in a room full of mirrors. Something moved out of the corner of his eye and he turned to see himself reflected dozens of times. Panic set in as his eyes darted wildly around the room. There was no way out that he could see, and everywhere he looked was his reflection. In an effort to calm himself, he reached out to one of the mirrors and leaned against the polished surface. The mirror surface felt different than glass normally did, colder and just ever so slightly rougher. Curiosity replaced panic as he ran his fingers over the surface. There was a grain in the surface, like metal had even when it was polished. As he examined the metal, a voice resounded in his head. He couldn't make out the words, but he had an idea of what the voice was trying to say. _Accept me,_ he thought the voice said, _and I shall accept you_. He quickly agreed.

When he woke up, his head felt light from the pain and blood loss. He reached up to wipe the blood from his eyes, only to be stopped by someone's hand. "Don't touch it," said the unfamiliar voice, "it's stitched up."

"Did you take the bullet out," he remembered asking. Whoever it was that looked over him remained silent.

"What bullet," the speaker questioned at last.

Katsuharu wanted to reach up to his face again and touch the raw, dull ache that radiated from his cheekbone, but thought better of it. "The one in my face, dumbass. How did you think I got like this?"

"There wasn't a bullet when I operated on you. It must have ricocheted off that metal plate in your cheekbone." The speaker paused for a moment, then: "You're very lucky, you know. If that plate hadn't been there or if the bullet went in just a hair higher, you'd have lost an eye. Or more."

A sudden chill came over him. He had never been in a hospital in his life. How could he have a metal plate anywhere in his body? How did it get there? Where was the bullet? He _knew_ the bullet must have still been in him, because it hadn't come out when his fingers scrabbled over his face before he passed out.

Then he remembered traces of that fever dream. Polished metal mirrors and a thought suggesting that he accept whatever it was, then he would be accepted. The chill left, replaced by the numbness of being completely at a loss for ideas. Whatever it was in his fever dream must have done something. Turned the bullet into a metal plate, perhaps to replace whatever bone had shattered in the bullet's wake?

The opportunist within Katsuharu clutched at this new affinity with metal. He found that different metals felt differently to him, often in ways that other people couldn't detect. Gold felt weak, but glowed at him even when it was imprisoned in layers of rock. Silver was much the same, but stronger. He found that he could excise the precious metals from stone with less effort than other miners, and soon enough he became famous. This had proven to be detrimental to his freedom. A warlord came with the intent to use his ability for the warlord's own gain, a notion that chafed worse than the thought of dying. He went on the run and hid out.

But he liked working with metal. It obeyed him. In time, he turned to blacksmithing and picked up the basics from books he once would never have bothered to read. He settled in Firefly Village in hopes to work on his own. No one questioned his ability to forge without schooling and he was left well enough alone. Then the raiders came and this village became their's. Again it chafed on his notion of freedom, but they didn't harass the blacksmith quite as much as the warlord would have harassed the miner.

At night, when no one was looking, he pulled out a pet project from under his hut's floorboards and began working. It was an egg of gold and silver, built up layer upon layer with intricate designs that would have made any goldsmith green with envy. It was dangerous to keep working on something so fragile and likely to bring attention to the real depth of his skill, but he needed something more to do than hammer away at iron and steel.

Like every other night, Katsuharu began work on the egg's new layer. He shaped the bars of gold with small hammers and tongs on a goldsmith's anvil, feeling it give way to him easier than it would have to anyone else. Flattened bits of gold were shaped into tiny birds, with details chiseled in with a sewing needle fashioned from titanium and attached to the layer with silver wire.

He was in the process of scratching facial features into a gold hawk when a knock sounded at his door and made his blood run cold.

"Who's there," he called out with as much neutrality as he could muster. There was too much out on the work table for him to hide everything at once.

"It's Mako," said one familiar voice, then "and Ai," chirped another. Relief warmed Katsuharu's blood and he got up from his stool to open the door. He liked the twins. They were weird in the way only feral children could be, but civilized enough to at least mimic human interaction. And, somehow, someone taught them how to keep secrets.

The twins entered silently, as they always did, but behind them plodded a couple of men with heavy hiking boots. Katsuharu eyed them suspiciously, but said nothing. If the twins trusted them, they couldn't be too bad. Nevertheless, people don't normally go on social visits at night. "What's up?"

"Are you tired of having to fix guns and stuff for the raiders," Ai asked suddenly. Katsuharu blinked in surprise at the girl. The twins were weird, but never revolutionaries. "'Cause I'm tired of having to hunt for more than just enough meat and hides to support me and Mako. It's not fair to the animals and it's not fair to us."

At Katsuharu's slight nod, Mako picked up where Ai left off. "We don't like to fight, but if we can chase the raiders out, we can live free again. And if we can do that, these guys want to talk about setting up an alliance between this village and where they come from."

Suspicion sparked within Katsuharu again. Alliances were set up for two reasons: trade and war. There wasn't much to trade, so war was the more likely reason. As much as he liked the twins, they were often a bit clueless when it came to artifacts of the old world. War was one such artifact. "I'll agree to whatever you say, but on one condition: No exploitation." His eyes narrowed slightly at the outsiders. "Most of the kids here are too young to remember the old world. Exploit that and you may find yourselves with nuggets of uranium trapped in your bones." Katsuharu smirked at the blank stare he got. "Remember history class? Uranium's a very radioactive metal. Deadly."

"That's nice, but we have no intention to do any such thing," the shorter of the two outsiders pointed out. "Can we explain things so you don't suddenly poison us in our sleep?"

With a sigh, Katsuharu pulled his stool up from the workbench and gestured for the outsiders to continue. This was probably going to take a while. Mako and Ai followed his example, but chose to sit on the floor.

"When the pandemic spread," the blond started, "many well-connected adults retreated to military bases and campsites in hopes to ride it out. We come from one of those bases, but the virus got in and killed the adults there anyway. But, there's another military base where the adults survived."

Katsuharu was unaware that he was gaping until one of the twins made one of their monkey sounds at him. He closed his mouth with a click of teeth as he tried to absorb the idea. Living adults? He had been _certain_ they all died. That was all everyone knew. Those who hadn't died, often people with hormone disorders that retarded their growth, had been killed off in the first few years by angry preteens who were unable to accept that there were reasons why their parents had died and the hormone-deficient people hadn't. For the first few years after the Apocalypse, the popular view was that the gods had punished the adults for screwing up the world. Anyone who hadn't died of the virus were killed by kids who believed they were enforcing the gods' will. That was the way things _were_. But... "If they survived, shouldn't you be trying to get in touch with them? Drag them back into the world? Why are they hiding?"

"We don't know why they were hiding," the brown-haired one replied solemnly, "but they're coming back out. With big, black, armored helicopters."

"If you've heard any of the rumors about the virus coming back, people being abducted, men of fire, and entire settlements going up in flames, the adults from that military base are behind it," stated the blond. When Katsuharu remained speechless, he continued. "We caught one of their people, a man with age lines and greying hair. He said that they were coming out to introduce a totalitarian regime to the world again. We don't know why they're waiting, but it might have to do with the returning disease."

"Thing is," the other outsider said, "They came really close to attacking our base, and we weren't ready. We want an alliance in case it happens again. If you don't like having the raiders around, you _definitely_ don't want to have these guys around. In the mean time, we can send over someone with basic first-aid training, supplies, and whatever else you want." The man sudden flashed a quick, rather charming grin. "Please?"

Katsuharu's glance darted from one outsider to the other, and back again. They looked earnest enough, and he had heard all the rumors mentioned, but what if they were getting into something too big for a little village like this? Anyone from the old world would know more than the kids who grew up without teachers, more than a population where the vast majority was illiterate, more than kids who didn't remember the lessons of history. History taught that the future was paved in blood and suffering, where revolutions were violent and often led to less-than-stellar regime changes. The adults had had their chance for thousands of years and raised up their children to act just like them. But now there were so many children who had forgotten the old world and grew up just wanting peace, like the twins picking at each other's hair before him. The raiders were relics of the old world, but if everything played out right, Ai and Mako could be the future. With this in mind, Katsuharu gave his consent.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?"

"We need arrowpoints that can hurt but won't catch in the flesh," the blond stated. "We don't want to trigger a fight, but if things come to it, a few stings would probably discourage them. With the digimon and a few arrows, the raiders just might get the hint."

Katsuharu frowned slightly at the unfamiliar word, but could ask what a digimon was later. "Fetch me some iron and I can work out a few arrowpoints in no time. There should be enough left on a few of the cars outside."

The short, brown-haired outsider grinned again and started for the door. "Sure thing. I'll be right back!"

With a sigh, Katsuharu surrendered himself to working with iron for the rest of the night.

.*.

Morning came with sunbeams streaking through leaves and falling into mottled, ever-moving patterns on the ground. Ai settled on a branch to watch out for the raiders. Her calloused hands and feet gripped at rough bark with the ease of any monkey, and she knew her center of gravity well enough to balance quite safely in a tree. She watched the highway now, waiting for the telltale glint of metal that would signal the approaching raiders.

She had very little idea of what their visitors told Katsuharu. She understood the words, but the concepts were alien. Why would anyone want to control anyone else? People were meant to be free, just like animals were free. Trap an animal and it fights to escape. Wasn't that the way all things were meant to be? Abductions, experimentation, war, it was all so strange. The raiders she could sort of understand. They were like crows and scavenger dogs, taking what caught their interest and leaving well enough alone anything that didn't interest them. But then, she hadn't understood Genki either. She played along from what she remembered from observation, but couldn't fathom why he wanted them to call him something that meant nothing to her and Mako. Maybe he had a mind sickness, like her Ainu caretakers had mentioned at times. Did the raiders have that same mind sickness, or the older people Takeru and Daisuke mentioned?

With a distinctly monkey-like sound of irritation made at the number of strange ideas she had had to take in over the past night, she glanced down at the ground immediately below her. Impmon was talking to the other two digimon, bringing a slight smile to her face. Other people would probably think of Impmon's words as insulting, but that was just the way he was: rough and unable to quite grasp human politesse. Just like her and Mako. The blue one, V-mon, was starting to take offense at his words, but the argument that ensued was more playful than anything else.

Earlier that morning, at the behest of the outsiders, Impmon was introduced to the village. They explained the existence of the Digital World and why an alliance between the village and the Rocky Country was so important. With a digimon on their side, the villagers had a fighting chance against raiders and other people who would try to invade. If all went well, the mere presence of Impmon in the village would be enough of a deterrent for them. And, naturally, Impmon loved the attention.

A sudden movement caught at the corner of her eye and she returned to watching the highway. Approaching them was a familiar, fairly battered jeep that looked as if it was ready to break down at any moment. She let out a hoot that would have sounded just as natural from a macaque and pulled her bow from its place on her shoulder to her hand. Once she pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it into position, she was ready.

The group of four raiders approached Mako and Katsuharu with demands for the month's tithe. When Mako refused, their leader gathered the front of Mako's shirt in his fists and jerked her brother close. He snarled something she couldn't catch, but she figured it was just as good a time as any to act.

The arrow sailed with grace and precision in the air to nick the top of the raider's right wrist and embed itself harmlessly in the ground. Surprised, the man let her brother go and demanded his followers find out who had shot. A second arrow, from where she knew Takeru was stationed, nailed the man's sandal to the ground. She had to restrain herself from giving him a whistle of appreciation for his aim.

"We don't want you here anymore," her brother declared in his strongest voice. She was ever so proud of him. "Leave and don't come back. The spirits of the forest are angry with you."

"What spirits," the raider leader practically snarled. His fist raised threateningly over Mako. "If you don't stop this nonsense right now-"

"Night Of Fire," Impmon's voice rang out. Small fireballs shot past, singeing the raider's hair and clothes but not doing any real damage. Impmon stepped from the shadows of a rusting car and another fireball hovered over a finger. "Try that again and I won't miss, punk."

Ai was too far away to see the expressions on the raiders' faces, but a couple of the followers were starting to back away. Impmon started stepping forward with his fireball, then one of the raiders broke into a run. "Don't piss off the spirits of the forest, 'cause we get real mad real easy. Got it?"

As another ran, a third arrow sailed down from Takeru's post to trip up the raiders' leader. Although Impmon was small in comparison, he stomped up to the fallen man's face and gave what Ai was sure to be an unpleasant smirk. "Mako's my buddy, see, and if you punks ever come here again, you're gonna deal with me."

The raiders needed no more encouragement. The leader's remaining underling helped him up and the stumbled back to their jeep. As a last warning, Ai let loose a final arrow. It undershot, and instead of hitting the hood, it drove into the space between the men's seats. The driver nearly jumped out of his skin, then slammed on something and the jeep sped away.

Once it was out of sight, Ai pulled her bow back over her shoulder and climbed down. Whether it was out of good cheer over the success of their plan or not, she jumped the last few branches and landed on her hands and feet. She had almost started to curl her well-calloused knuckles under her hands and start running on all fours like a monkey, but the sudden thump of the quiver on her back reminded her what she really was. Instead, she rose to her feet and trotted to Impmon's side.

"Well done!"

Impmon blinked up at her. "You think so?"

"Yeah." Ai grinned suddenly at her partner. "I think you're the best digimon ever."

A sudden flush started in Impmon's cheeks, despite his best efforts to suppress it. "Oh. Well, of course I'm the best! Those jerks won't be back, you can count on it!"

On an impulse, Ai knelt to give her partner a quick peck on the forehead and ran before he could think of reacting. Consequently, she didn't get to see Impmon's face go completely red in response.

.*.

At noon was a village meeting over what to do now that the raiders were chased away. It would be agreed upon that Impmon would continue to act as protector, and he would stay only if Ai and Mako did. As a formality, Katsuharu would probably be voted in as village leader, because he was charismatic enough that people had been listening to him since he came to the village. Mako hadn't attended, because he had work to do. Besides, Ai tended to speak for them when it came to things like that anyway, and told him what happened after every meeting.

He busied himself with a couple of unfinished items. He really liked Daisuke. He was sure they could be great friends if Daisuke decided to stay. But he knew Daisuke, Takeru, and their digimon had to go soon, so he had to do something to remind them to come back.

It was really his best work yet, dyed in alternating bands of red, blue, and yellow to match Daisuke's jacket. He stitched white glass beads into the ends to finish it off, then set it next to the gloves he hoped would fit Takeru. Takeru didn't have Ai's calluses and ended up using a strip of old leather to protect his fingers from the bowstring, so hopefully he would appreciate the gloves.

As the meeting came to an end, Mako returned outside to the visitors with his gifts. Other people milled around their homes, but Ai and the others were clustered around the rover. Beside them were the digimon, and Impmon and V-mon were arguing again over which one was the better fighter. Nobody else paid them much attention.

"Before you guys go, here." Mako held out the leather items to what he hoped to consider were new friends. "Thanks for helping us."

The two men look at his gifts, then at each other, then at him. "We can't take them," Takeru said apologetically, "they're too nice. We shouldn't take your work."

Daisuke eyed the long strip of decorated leather longingly. "They _are_ really nice..."

Mako bit down the urge to sigh in exasperation and pressed the items into their hands. The old world kids could be so annoyingly polite and formal. "Take them, okay? I don't need them and you do. Besides, you'll make me and Ai feel bad if you don't."

"Thanks," Takeru muttered as he accepted the exquisitely made leather gloves. The rather awed look on his face made Mako warm with pride.

Daisuke grinned at him and tried to tie the headband onto his head. When it wouldn't go on right, Mako took it from his hands and tied it in place himself. He rather thought _something_ was missing on Daisuke's bare head, but the headband helped offset that feeling. It was like the headband belonged on Daisuke. He gave the knot a final tug and stepped away.

Takeru gave Daisuke a considering look once the headband was set in place. "You know what he needs? Goggles."

Daisuke peered at Takeru curiously. "Like Takato? Why?"

Takeru simply shrugged at that. "Dunno. It would just feel right."

The twins watched them in curiosity, but said nothing. Then, as Takeru tried on his new gloves, Daisuke's eyes widened in sudden realization and he started digging in his pockets for something or other. Soon enough, though, he pulled out an old plastic bag and unwound the frayed wire tie around it. He then pulled out four brightly-colored, star-shaped objects from the bag and handed one to each of them. Mako brought his red-colored star thing up close to stare at it. "What is it?"

"Konpeito," Daisuke explained. "It's candy from the old world. It's made of sugar, so it stays edible forever in the right conditions. Go on, eat!"

Ai sniffed at hers suspiciously, but Impmon popped his into his mouth and hummed in poorly-veiled delight. When Katsuharu did the same, the twins followed suit. Mako sucked thoughtfully on the little bit of sweetness and found he liked it.

After a while, the people from the Rocky Country had to go. Last minute pot-shots were made by Impmon and V-mon to each other as Ai, Mako, and Katsuharu waved their farewells. As the rover disappeared in the distance, Mako had a pretty good feeling that they would see each other again. All of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ai and Mako are not the only children raised by Japanese macaques. Other children, mostly infants and toddlers, have been taken in by the monkeys and come away with varying levels of feral upbringing. Because Ai and Mako were taken to humans earlier than most other wild children, they developed fairly normally. While the twins take traits from both sets of primates, other wild children weren't so lucky. In more severe cases where the window of childhood development closes before the children are taken in by other humans, they grow up incapable of basic speech and human behaviors.
> 
> Lead is a highly toxic heavy metal and Katsuharu normally wouldn't survive having a plate of lead in his body. However, his Spirit allows him to cope with toxic metals in his system, and over the years his body and his Spirit have neutralized what used to be a bullet of lead and changed the atomic structures of individual particles into a titanium-nickel alloy. This is the same composition of surgical metals. He is not conscious of this happenstance. If asked to, he probably would not be able to reproduce the act and, for example, transform lead into gold (by changing atomic structure and adding or removing subatomic particles, which is largely theoretical at this time). As an aside, all of the people with the Spirits are capable of manipulating their elements. Katsuharu just happens to have the good luck of getting to work with metals, which takes up a good deal of the periodic table of elements. In fact, despite surface differences, the spirits of Metal and Earth have very similar effects on their human hosts due to the fact that most non-organic elements found in soil is metal, silica, carbon, or other such things.


	11. Satori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeru and Daisuke run across the Yagamis and their followers and try to convince them to join Iwakuni

Noto peninsula jutted out of the spine of Japan like a crooked finger trying to beckon Korea closer. As Daisuke looked over the map in the process of marking down Firefly Village, he thought the islands of Japan looked a bit like a sea horse. Hokkaido was the head, the scattering of islands that included Okinawa was the tail, and Tokyo was at the belly. He wondered vaguely if anyone ever saw it that way before. In fact...

"Hey, Takeru? Ever notice that the nation of Japan looks like a sea horse," he asked conversationally.

Takeru glanced at Daisuke in surprise at the sudden question, but his eyes returned to the road once he was fairly certain Daisuke was being serious. "Can't say I've ever thought of it."

V-mon scrambled closer to Daisuke to look over the map. He cocked his head in an attempt to see what Daisuke was talking about, but something was puzzling him. "What's a sea horse?"

"It's a little ocean creature," Patamon offered helpfully. "Takeryu showed me one at an aquarium once! They look funny." Patamon looked up at his partner. "Takeryu, why do they call them sea horses when they don't look like horses?"

"I don't know. Ask Daisuke?"

Daisuke shot Takeru a half-hearted glare for redirecting the queries to him. "I dunno, okay? People do weird crap like that."

"Humans are so strange," groused V-mon. Patamon made an agreeing noise beside him.

While Daisuke was preparing to counter that with the observation that digimon were pretty strange too, the rover slowed its progress to walking speed. He looked up from the digimon to see what caused the slow-down.

Approaching them on the derelict old highway was a group of people, many with packs and carts that suggested a nomadic existence. They walked with a kind of calm assurance that didn't seem quite normal to Daisuke. As he tried to figure it out, his eyes drifted over to the front of the procession and he completely forgot about anything else.

She was a vision in the white and red robes of a Shinto shrine maiden, with shoulder-length hair of a warm brown color and breath-taking cinnamon-colored eyes. There was a glow around her that wasn't actually seen, but he was fairly sure everyone sensed it. He would like nothing more than to be with her. Then she looked in his direction and the world's most radiant smile appeared on her face. He didn't really notice when the rover slowed to a stop, or anything else for that matter. _She_ broke into as much of a run as her traditional sandals would allow and was heading straight for-

His jaw dropped as his mind fought to reconcile reality with fantasy. The priestess rushed into _Takeru's_ arms, and _he_ hugged her like they were familiar with each other. _Very_ familiar with each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Patamon cheered and launched from the rover to flap over to a white cat who remained by the priestess's side. What the hell was going on?

"Takeru! Where have you been? We were so worried about you," the priestess said once they parted.

The ecstatic grin on Takeru's face faded. "Everywhere, mostly. Can we talk in private?"

With a murmur of understanding, the priestess turned back to her congregation. Her silvery voice rose just high enough for them to hear her. "Let's make camp for tonight and we'll resume the pilgrimage tomorrow."

The crowd made various noises of agreement and dispersed to do something or other that Daisuke couldn't guess. The only other people remaining behind were a man with untamable hair kept out of his face by a pair of goggles and a deformed-looking boy hidden under a broad-rimmed hat and poncho. The man's warm brown eyes caught his and seemed to smile for the briefest moment before returning to Takeru and the priestess.

"Mind introducing us to your friend, Takeru?"

Takeru had the grace to look a bit embarrassed at forgetting Daisuke for the moment. "Oh, right. Motomiya Daisuke, meet Yagami Hikari," the priestess smiled shyly at Daisuke, "and Taichi." Taichi gave him a friendly wave. Curious, V-mon poked his head out above the dashboard and glanced around. "And V-mon, meet Tailmon and Agumon." The white cat, Tailmon, nodded gracefully in acknowledgement as the kid took off the hat and revealed himself as a small orange dinosaur.

V-mon flushed and muttered a quick greeting. Daisuke considered asking if it was possible for digimon to form crushes, but Hikari spoke up before he could say anything. "If you're all willing to stay the night, we can offer our tent to share."

"Sure thing," Daisuke blurted out enthusiastically before he could think better of it. To his surprise, Hikari didn't seem offended in the least.

In all likelihood, there would have been an awkward silence had Taichi not taken advantage of the moment to announce that he and Hikari would be needed to help set up camp, which was on the beach a bit further north if they'd like to come along. With that, the Yagamis and their digimon led the way down the road. After a quick word to Takeru, Patamon fluttered to Tailmon's side.

As the rover followed along at as slow a speed as it could manage while still capable of moving, Daisuke figured it was probably the best chance he had to ask Takeru about things. V-mon's still-red face suggested that he wasn't up for much interrogation for a while. "Say, um, Takeru? Are you and Hikari an item or something?"

The rover came to an abrupt stop as Takeru slammed on the brakes and looked at him in surprise. "Us? An item? What do you mean?"

"Are you guys romantically involved?" Might as well get the answer _now_ and not embarrass himself later.

Blue eyes searched his, perhaps hoping it was a bad joke. When Takeru was sure he was serious, he sighed. "No. You're attracted to her, aren't you?"

"Well, of _course_ ," Daisuke said with just a touch of exasperation, as if it would be obvious to anyone. "Who wouldn't be? V-mon likes Tailmon too."

V-mon made an indignant sound but did not deny it.

A faint, humorless half-smile ghosted across Takeru's face. "Well, good luck trying, then. I love her like a sister, and it's the same with Patamon and Tailmon, but that's about it. She's asexual."

Bemused, Daisuke took a moment to consider the word. Did Takeru mean what he suspected his friend meant, or was there some other meaning that he didn't consider? "What does that mean?"

"Just what the word suggests. She's not physically attracted to anyone, male or female." At Daisuke's sudden crestfallen expression, Takeru gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "That doesn't mean you can't be friends with her. Hikari's friendship is much more valuable than whatever brief encounters can come of a romantic relationship. Same goes for Tailmon."

V-mon looked fairly optimistic at that. "So I can be friends with Tailmon too?"

The half-smile turned into a full grin. "Of course. Besides, it's better this way in the long run."

For a long, silent moment, Daisuke carefully considered the options. Maybe Takeru was right. He _had_ had lovers before, but they rarely stuck around after a break-up. True friends, however, remained loyal through thick and thin. When the rover started moving again, Daisuke decided that _that_ was the best outcome he could hope for.

.*.

Yagami Hikari had always considered herself somewhat weak. While Taichi (and Takeru, back when they traveled together regularly) meant well in trying to protect her from the world, it left her with little confidence in her own strength. In the Digital World it wasn't _her_ that was powerful, it was the spirits of Light that used her body as a physical medium to display their powers. Consequently, when the Apocalypse came, she was surprised by her own willpower to keep going. Their parents would have wanted her to live, not give in to the despair that would have been so easy to end with just a razor blade and a tub full of hot water.

At first she lived in Taichi's shadow, content to wait in safety with Protomon and Koromon until he came back with food and water. When they were joined up by Yamato and Takeru, Yamato would frequently go off with Taichi on food runs while Takeru was told to wait behind and protect her. Everyone was always protecting her. After a while, Yamato and Takeru went off to try and find their parents again, and again she was left with only the digimon and her brother as company. As she grew older, more and more people started leering at her, wanting something she had no desire to give to anyone. Once a thug who had been eyeing her in the markets attempted to molest her while her brother was away. It had been the trigger for Protomon's evolution to Tailmon, and as the wounded thug stalked away, Hikari realized that she couldn't always count on Taichi to be there for her.

The Shinto shrine maiden robes had been a defense at first, something to hide behind and warn people that she was not something to take their pleasure from. A shrine maiden was untouchable, pure of body and spirit. However, she should have realized sooner that the other children would assume she might have been a real priestess. People came with the expectation that she would be able to perform religious services for them; and after the first few times she was approached on the matter, she came to the conclusion that she might as well play the part. For several years, she read all the holy books and philosophies she could come across. As her role grew greater than she had ever anticipated, her own beliefs crystallized into something that might have best been defined as the sum of the world's religions.

Now, years afterwards, she knew she had power. The people looked to her for reassurance and purpose when they couldn't find it anywhere else. Her blessings absolved the guilty. She preached peace to former Clansmen and self-reliance to the downtrodden. Above all, her message was one of the sanctity of life.

Taichi, Agumon, and Tailmon had been there for her throughout it all. When there was no longer any need for Taichi to find food for them all, he stood by as guardian during public events and kept order during the pilgrimages to various shrines. Tailmon would listen to her self-doubts and assure Hikari that she would always be there. Hikari loved and was loved, and base biological drives she had no interest in were never a part of it.

.*.

Sunset lit up the formerly grey sky with hues of vibrant reds and oranges that faded into purples as the sun steadily retreated beyond the sea's horizon. On the beach, just a bit away from the national highway, was a campsite that saw use many times before. Several tents of varying composition clustered around the main campfire, where fish were being spit-roasted in preparation for supper.

Daisuke gazed longingly at the atmosphere of warm camaraderie, wanting to join in but unable to quite yet. Takeru was busy at the radio and their digimon partners were already busy socializing with the Yagamis' digimon. He didn't know _why_ he had to stay here, especially since Takeru was the one who monopolized the radio, but Ken insisted he had to be in hearing range so Takeru wouldn't have to repeat their orders.

"Are you certain you want to pursue this? Remember the problem we had with Genki-"

"Hikari isn't Genki," Takeru interrupted in exasperation. "She's a Chosen Child like me and Sora. I trust her."

If Daisuke strained a bit, he could just barely hear Ken's grunt of irritation under the radio's crackling. "I'm wary about placing trust in a cult leader-"

"She's not a cult leader!"

"Takeru! Will you stop interrupting and hear me out?"

"Okay, fine. She's still not a cult leader."

There was a brief pause, which Daisuke suspected Ken was taking advantage of to grit his teeth, before he continued. "I've never heard of her before, save for passing mention from you and Sora. What resources does she have? What would make her a valuable ally?"

"Her congregation is primarily nomadic and most of the members have friends and family in high places. Hikari herself is going to write an introduction letter for me to gain audience with the Shogun of Niigata." Takeru paused to grin smugly at that, which Daisuke couldn't really fault him for. They hadn't known that Hikari knew the Shogun, but when he was mentioned in passing on the way to the campsite, Hikari said she was _friends_ with the guy! Daisuke was convinced then that Hikari was the best ally they would ever find. "You did want us to talk to the Shogun, correct?"

The pause on Ken's end was longer this time. Daisuke wondered faintly what a surprised expression on Ken's face would look like. "Er... Yes. Go on."

"They have links everywhere, Ken, and just because they're a bunch of pacifists does not mean they won't help out. A lot of them have basic first aid training and when things do come to war, they'll willing to treat our wounded. And, if anyone ever figures out how to lift that restriction on evolution, the two digimon here would be able to evolve to Angewomon and WarGreymon."

"What do they want in exchange?"

The satisfied look on Takeru's face fell into something that looked far more like worry. "Well, here's where it gets weird. None of them will join the military, but they do want us to find and protect something called 'The Grail.' It's not an artifact and not connected to the Holy Grail of European mythology, but I think it might be a person. Hikari says the Grail is somewhere near our area, but not in the base itself. She also says that it's imperative to keep the Grail out of Amaterasu's clutches, but I'm not sure why."

Daisuke could just imagine Ken frowning at the thought of sending his agents on a wild goose chase. "Does she have a description of this person? Anything more to work with?"

"Nothing, sorry," Takeru responded with a frown of his own. "All I know is that the Grail is somewhere in our area and has something valuable that Amaterasu would want if they knew this person had it."

"Perfect." Ken's voice practically dripped with sarcasm. "These people can offer us a fortuitous alliance, but only in exchange for something without a name or description. Shouldn't be a problem."

Impatient for this argument to come to an end, Daisuke plucked the handset from Takeru's hands. "Yo, Ken! The best we can do is keep that area out of enemy hands, right? Keep a lookout for anyone who might look like they're carrying secrets or something. I think that's what Hikari means. Maybe when Hikari's group is in the area, she can have the freedom to look around."

There was a sigh under the radio's crackling. "Very well. What are your opinions on the matter, Daisuke?"

Daisuke blinked in surprise. Why the hell would Ken want to know what he thought? "I like Hikari. I mean, I haven't heard her sermons yet, but she's not some crazy jackass like that Genki guy. She's very sweet, and modest, and kind, and-" His companion gave a low, amused chuckle at that. He shot Takeru a warning glare before continuing. "And a bunch of other things. If I was in your place, I'd go for it."

"All right." Ken sounded like he actually trusted Daisuke's word. "Do what you two can to seal the deal, then I want you to head to the shogunate as soon as possible."

Takeru grabbed the handset before Ken could close the connection. "Oh, Ken? One last thing. See if you can get some mint tea back at the base, okay? I'm sick of mulberry tea. Over and out."

Before Ken could respond, Takeru killed the radio connection and got out of the rover's cab. At Daisuke's befuddled expression, he gave a slight shrug. "You have Jun and Shaochung to socialize with at the base, but I have to entertain Ken while Sora's busy doing whatever she does for an hour a day."

A look of dawning comprehension appeared on Daisuke's face. "Ohh, I wondered where you'd run off to all the time. What do you do?"

"Play Risk and drink tea," Takeru said with an exaggerated air of despondence. "I may not be able to stop him from kicking my ass and taking over my territories, but at least I can try and convince him to make the tea more palatable."

Daisuke gave his friend a sympathetic pat on the back before moving to rearrange the branches arranged around the rover. It wasn't that they didn't trust Hikari's congregation to keep a lookout for stray bandits, but habits were hard to break and keeping the rover hidden wasn't a habit they would want broken. When they were certain it would be hard to pick out from the rest of the scrub and trees south of the highway, they returned to the campsite.

By now the cloud cover had mostly broken up, revealing a full moon shining down from the sky. The moisture still in the air gave the appearance of a halo of silver light around the moon and amplified the glow of the stars. Daisuke didn't really notice it until they were at the campsite proper and he could look up. Takeru went on ahead of him to join Taichi at the campfire.

"Beautiful, isn't it," Hikari's voice whispered from somewhere behind him. Daisuke blinked in surprise and turned to look at her. Bathed in the silver light, Hikari looked even more angelic. Yeah, that was the perfect word.

"Uhm. Yeah, you are-" Daisuke cut off abruptly when he realized his faux pas and stammered in embarrassment, "I mean, _it_ is." He wondered faintly if the sand would be so kind as to open a rift underneath him.

The priestess simply smiled reassuringly at him, which made him feel just slightly less stupid. "Will you walk with me?"

He suddenly felt very light-headed. "Yeah, sure."

Hikari turned and led him away from the campsite, towards a cluster of boulders along the coast. Clinging to the hope that maybe he had a chance and "asexual" might not include him, Daisuke followed willingly. Picking their way around the rocks was surprisingly easy under the moonlight, and it wasn't long before the campfire was no longer visible. Hikari's bare feet looked white and frail against the black boulder they were climbing on, making Daisuke wonder if the roughness was causing her any pain. It didn't look like it did, but Takeru said Hikari was the type to internalize things, so-

"Here we are," she announced once they reached the top. There was just enough flat space for two people to lie back and watch the stars. With a grateful sigh, she sat with slender legs dangling over the edge and patted the space beside her. "Join me."

Somewhere in the back of his mind was a mental image of a cartoon version of himself cheering in triumph. He shoved the mental image away and sat beside her. "So, uh..."

"Is Takeru faring well," Hikari asked in concern.

Daisuke's optimism abruptly deflated. So _that's_ what this was all about. Well, at least he could be honest. Takeru was still his friend, and this he firmly reminded the part of himself that was starting to get jealous. "From the outside, he looks like he's just fine. But, I dunno. He clams up when I ask, or says it's nothing."

"We were just children back then. We were just children, but there were evil digimon who wanted us dead. How were we supposed to cope?" Daisuke blinked in surprised and tore his eyes from the horizon to glance at Hikari. Her eyes were distant and her face carefully impassive, as if the memory was an old wound that had never fully healed. "For me and Takeru, our method of coping was to appear perfectly happy on the outside. The others counted on us to keep their spirits up. The world could fall apart around us, but we had to keep going. Then the Apocalypse came and the masks became second nature."

A slight frown tugged at the corners of Daisuke's lips. He heard the stories, of course. Etemon, Devimon, the Dark Masters, and Apocalymon. Patamon's death and rebirth, and a promise to Sora to protect Hikari. Various things in between. "Yeah, I heard about it. I just have no idea what to do when he gets moody and stuff."

"Moody?"

"Right." The words started coming in a torrent, but Daisuke honestly didn't care. Hikari probably knew Takeru better than anyone else, so maybe she had an answer. "He gets pissed off over random shit, and if it's bad enough, he'll go violent. Otherwise he just stews and I'm worried that one day he'll go berserk and I won't be able to stop him. Or what if I'm not there to stop him? He says he talks to Sora about it, but I don't think it's really doing anything to help him with his issues. What do I do?"

Hikari was silent for a moment; and before she spoke, her hand slid over his to give it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not sure anymore. What triggers his rage?"

"Completely random shit. When we first met, he attacked me for attempting to make off with his ducks (which I did kinda deserve), then there was another time when he, uh, accidently killed the guys chasing him. I wasn't there for it, but later I heard that they were from Amaterasu's Cave and were responsible for burning a bunch of settlements. And then there was the attack on the guy manhandling Momoe, but I think that was because he couldn't attack Genki..." Daisuke trailed off when an idea came to mind. Might as well ask while he was on the subject. "Which reminds me, why does he have a problem with religion when he's friends with you?"

A wan, humorless smile appeared on Hikari's face. "He has a problem with people who plant false hopes in others. Many street preachers expound upon the notion of gods and eternal paradise, with strict rules that would ensure that no one would be able to access that paradise without paying off the preacher or rejecting the very things that makes one human. To him, that's an abuse of other people's beliefs and good will."

"I'm really sorry if this is rude or something," Daisuke began, "But what do you offer that's any different? I mean, it's all the same to me."

Hikari pulled back until she was lying on the boulder's surface and looking up at the sky. Curious, Daisuke followed her example and did the same. He noticed that the moisture was thickening around the moon's halo, up to the point where silver light bounced off some small, nearly transparent clouds near the moon and formed strange, ghostly white shapes on either side. He'd never seen it happen before. "What do you see up there?"

"The moon, a bunch of stars, and some weird shapes by the moon. Why?"

Hikari's voice lowered into a whisper. "I offer people no more or less than what I see. And what I see is a natural miracle."

Daisuke frowned slightly. "What does that mean?"

"Ours is the only planet in the solar system that has life, at least that we know of. Can you imagine what it must have been like billions of years ago, when the Earth was young? Life managed to begin and hold on and _evolve_ , despite everything the universe threw at it. It took billions of years for tiny cyanobacteria to create an oxygenated atmosphere, and millions of more years for life to crawl out of primordial oceans and populate the land. And even when the great extinctions eliminated all but a handful of the lifeforms on Earth, life still hung on. When our own race nearly became extinct, we still survived. That is all I preach: admiration of the miraculous tenacity of life. Whether or not there is a god or set of gods responsible for that kind of miracle doesn't matter to me. Should we not appreciate this gift, regardless of who or what it came from?"

Somehow, the light of the moon and stars seemed warmer than they usually were as Hikari spoke. Odd how he always took them for granted. "I think I get what you're saying."

He could just imagine her smiling beside him, but made no move to sit up and look at her for confirmation. For what seemed like an eternity, they laid under the starlight in a comfortable silence that went beyond peace or want. He was content to listen to the waves and distant noise from the congregation that seemed so far away. But then-

"I used to have these dreams," Hikari whispered at last, "in which things were different than they are now. I'd dream about a world where the Apocalypse never happened, where our parents never died. They were usually nebulous and I'd forget most of them once I woke, but every now and then something would strike me as familiar. When I saw you and V-mon, I felt I've seen you two before, but it wasn't until now that I remember seeing both of you in the fragments of dreams."

Confused, Daisuke turned his head to glance at her face in an effort to see whether or not she was teasing him or something. Her eyes were fixed on the stars, looking for all the world like she was a million miles away. "What do you mean?"

Hikari's lips pressed thin as she tried to find a way to express what had only ever come to her as half-formed theories. "Ever get the feeling that this isn't the way things should have been? That maybe this reality is just one of several?"

"Oh." What would have been. He'd seen this kind of thing before, usually in kids who weren't satisfied with the fact that at least they were alive. Kids who felt that the Apocalypse was a nightmare that they'd wake up from sooner or later. "It's denial. I've seen a lot of kids with it."

"No, nothing like that. I know that this is real. But, I also know that I keep having these dreams of things that never happened with people I've never met before. You were in my dreams long before I met you, as were several others. How is that possible when the events in those dreams never happened? Maybe there are multiple realities and I'm somehow able to remember the history from at least one of them."

If he wasn't still lying down, he would have given a shrug. "Maybe. It doesn't matter though, does it? _This_ is our reality, and I know it's ugly and painful, but we've gotta make the best of it. Right?"

To his surprise, Hikari rose to a sitting position to peer closely at him. "It does matter, a bit. I wouldn't have invited you out here if I hadn't known you were trustworthy."

A warm, happy feeling curled up in his gut at that. No one had called him trustworthy before, and certainly not a girl he liked. "Thanks."

They remained silent for another long moment. While he knew they had to go back sooner or later, Daisuke figured he should enjoy the peace while he could. With Hikari, he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with inane comments.

"Daisuke?" Hikari's voice was a whisper just barely audible above the gentle lapping of waves on the shore. "Will you keep an eye on Takeru for me? Make sure he doesn't get into trouble?"

With a sigh, Daisuke brought himself back into a sitting position. "I can try, but I can't guarantee anything. He does have a mind of his own."

"That's all I can ask of you." With that, Hikari climbed the rest of the way down the boulder and waited for him to join her on the way back.

.*.

Warmth was all Tailmon was really conscious of at the moment. It lulled her into the vague half-sleep state of a cat nap even as the other digimon were chattering amongst themselves over some subject or another that didn't really matter to her. Agumon seemed to be managing the others well enough, the campfire was warm and bright enough to chase old memories from her dreams, and her stomach was full of fish. Someday she ought to have Hikari write for her a Zen koan on the life of a cat. Not that she exhibited all the behaviors of a cat (and she was ever thankful that "in heat" never once applied to her), but this was close enough. She wondered if real cats were ever...

Tailmon blinked blearily when she woke up again, not quite sure how much time had passed since her last conscious thought. What was it again? Oh, yes, were real cats ever aware of how good they had it if they knew nothing but a loving home and owners? Her past was something she wouldn't have inflicted on anyone else, but it made her appreciate her partner all the more. She suspected she was the only digimon fully aware of just how bad it could be to yearn for something that wasn't there when she hatched, to search ceaselessly until darkness and anger became the entirety of her existence. Every now and then, she felt that she didn't deserve Hikari, who would then cuddle her and reassure her otherwise.

"Tailmon! You're up!"

With an irritated huff, Tailmon cracked open an eye to give Patamon a half-hearted glare. She hadn't wanted to join in on the conversation again, but Patamon's giant blue eyes were difficult to resist. "Now I am."

"Well, V-mon and Agumon were talking about evolution and why it's so hard to get to adult form, but then you're an adult digimon so we wanted to know why you made it when we couldn't." Patamon ended with a noticeable shortness of breath.

"I'm special," she responded dryly. When Patamon wouldn't budge, she stretched languidly before deigning to answer him. "It probably has something to do with my holy ring. I suspect it's a power-booster."

Red eyes fixed on the fluid motion of her tail as she displayed the ring she once found years ago. A lavender-tuffed ear twitched in amusement at the decidedly besotted look on V-mon's face. He was acting like several of Hikari's former suitors, just before she took up the robes of a shrine maiden. They were best handled by discouraging them as soon as possible. She flicked the tail one last time and tucked it under her gloved paws. "A bit of advice, V-mon," she whispered in a tone so low that only he could hear her, "energy is wasted in pursuit of someone incapable of reciprocation. It is better to make friends and let things grow naturally."

Embarrassed, V-mon squirmed. "Yeah, I know, it's just-"

Much to V-mon's relief, Hikari and Daisuke returned to the campsite. Tailmon purred and stepped gracefully to her partner's side as Hikari settled on the old rug they used to keep from sitting in the sand. "So, what are we talking about?"

"Evolution," Agumon said, "and why we can't evolve higher than the stages we're at now."

Patamon beamed at Agumon as he shuffled closer to the orange dinosaur and made room for Daisuke in the circle around the campfire. "We can always get Taichi to overstuff you again."

What tension there was broke as Agumon panicked at the memory of the events leading to the SkullGreymon evolution. "No! No! I don't need to evolve right now!"

Patamon giggled, which then set off Hikari and Tailmon. V-mon and Daisuke glanced at them all curiously but said nothing until the laughter wound down.

"There's this girl at the Rocky Country who works with the unbonded digimon," Daisuke began in hopes of contributing to the conversation, "and she said that no one has managed to make it past adult form in years. Something about being away from the Digital World for so long affecting the digimons' power levels."

Tailmon's ears perked in thought as she settled into her partner's lap. "That makes sense."

"Then if we could find some way into the Digital World, we'd be able to recharge," Agumon said. "Has anyone found a weakness between the worlds yet?"

V-mon shook his head. "We've had scouts in the Rocky Country looking for that kind of thing for years. The Digital World is sealed shut."

A peculiar wave of homesickness struck Tailmon, even though she had long since redefined her idea of "home" as wherever she went with Hikari. As many negative emotions as she had tied to the Digital World, it was still where she came from and what she fought to defend. A quick look around the campfire revealed that the other digimon were just as homesick. As if sensing her feelings, her partner started petting her fur in sympathy.

"We'll get back somehow," Patamon said in as positive a voice as he could muster. "It can't be sealed off forever 'cause the worlds are linked and there's always a chance a portal will open up again."

"Until then, I have to wear clothes," Agumon groused. "Do any of you know how hot it gets under that poncho?"

Daisuke blinked and looked at Hikari. "Hikari, your congregation knows about Agumon and Tailmon, right?"

The hand on Tailmon's fur stopped. "Well, yes, but they're the only ones who do. That's why Agumon isn't wearing clothes right now."

"Well, the Rocky Country is taking up a display-your-digimon policy kind of thing now that we're waiting for Amaterasu to drop in again. It's so people will think we're powerful and stuff, and want to be our allies." Daisuke's grin faded when he noticed a faint frown on Hikari's face. "It's purely for show. Besides, you guys handled the Dark Masters, right? You handle _anything_."

"That was before the Digital World crashed and locked us out." Tailmon fixed Daisuke under a stare that made most people squirm. "We can't very well take on the Dark Masters _now_."

"We're not asking you to," V-mon said defensively. "Like Daisuke said, it's all for show."

Agumon, who had been scratching his snout thoughtfully as the discussion was going on, seemed to feel that it was a good time to intervene. "If other digimon are coming out of hiding too, I think we should follow their example. If other humans want to attack, we're still capable of defending ourselves. Either way, people are going to have to get used to seeing digimon."

The fingers in Tailmon's fur stiffened. "I don't want anyone to get hurt, human or digimon. I'd like to hear Taichi's opinion first."

Patamon took that as a suggestion and fluttered above them to get a better view of the campsite. His eyes darted from campfire to campfire until he found what he was looking for and started flying as fast as his wings could carry him. Tailmon snorted at the sight. All this time and Patamon's top flying speed was the same as his walking speed. Good to see that some things never change.

Shortly afterwards, Taichi and Takeru arrived at their campfire. Takeru looked worse for wear, but Taichi trotted along with his shirt tied at his waist and well-toned muscles gleaming with sweat. Tailmon's nose wrinkled in a reflection of her partner's expression.

"Taichi," Hikari exclaimed in mock-horror, "I hope you plan to wash up before going to bed tonight. You're going to stink up the whole tent."

Not the least put off by Hikari's disapproval, Taichi grinned and settled cross-legged behind Agumon. "I'll think about it. What's up?"

As Hikari explained the whole thing to Taichi, Daisuke glanced over at Takeru and stared at the smudge of a bruise under Takeru's right eye. "What the _hell_ were you and Taichi doing?"

"He has this stupid idea that I should be able to defend myself in a fight." Takeru scowled even as Patamon settled back on his usual perch. "We started training together back when Yamato and I used to travel with them, but I fell out of practice and, well, he thought we should spar. He got better over the years, I didn't."

Before Daisuke could respond, Taichi called them back over to the fire. "I say it's high time the digimon stopped hiding. If anyone wants to start up anything, they'd have to get through me and Agumon. Nothing different when you think about it."

Hikari simply bowed her head in concession to her brother's decision.

After a while, people around the other campfires started dispersing to retreat into their own tents for the night. While Tailmon was content to remain with her partner, the lower-level digimon clustered together to talk about their own partners. Takeru cleaned up and went to sleep once Hikari tended to his wounds. Tailmon watched through slitted eyes as Taichi and Daisuke talked about something or other that didn't interest her in the least.

"Boys will be boys," Hikari whispered. Tailmon simply purred her understanding.

.*.

In a sharp contrast from the day before, the morning sky was nearly cloudless. It was too nice a morning to sleep in, despite every fiber in Daisuke's being urging him otherwise, so he dragged himself out from the mess that was his sleeping bag and stepped out of the tent. V-mon, the lazy bum, mumbled nonsensically and ignored his calls.

To his surprise, Taichi was up too. Oblivious to his presence, the older man went through some sort of martial arts katas Daisuke would never be able to identify if he tried. It was rather graceful, but the problem with martial arts was that they relied on just this sort of grace and repetition. He watched with interest, cataloguing the moves and considering how to counter them, until Taichi stopped and turned towards him.

"Do you fight?"

"Yeah," Daisuke responded automatically. "Well, I don't pick them, but I try to hold my own."

A grin appeared on Taichi's face, which made Daisuke immediately suspicious. "Want to spar? I promise I'll go easy on you."

"I dunno, man. I might hurt you."

Taichi stared at him, probably in an effort to see if he wasn't faking it, then laughed. "It's fine. You won't hurt me any worse than what I've been through before."

Daisuke started shrugging out of his jacket and shirt. To be fair, it had been a while since he'd had this sort of exercise. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he muttered as he removed his boots and socks. Sand was so difficult to fight in with shoes.

The first rays of the morning sun peeking in from the east illuminated the sand underfoot and signaled the start of the fight. Daisuke shifted from foot to foot, waiting for Taichi to make the first move. When the circling was getting a little too long for Daisuke's tastes, he lunged forth and skidded as if he were kicking a soccer ball out from under another player's nose. He just barely missed Taichi's balancing leg and, to make up for the error, lashed out to grab the older man's ankle and yank away from Taichi's center of gravity. Taichi fell hard, but rolled away before Daisuke could get to him again. Daisuke jumped up to his feet and stepped back, and here they were _circling_ again!

"You played soccer, didn't you," Taichi asked conversationally once he regained his breath.

Confused but unwilling to let his guard down, Daisuke responded. "Yeah, why?"

The sudden, rather fond smile on the older man's face worried him. It could be a ruse to unsettle him, for all he knew. "Oh, I did too when I was a kid. Good times."

"Soccer field next time," he suggested helpfully. It would be so _cool_ to play soccer with someone again!

The smile turned into a huge grin. "Sure! But first, we finish this."

Taichi moved first this time, kicking out to sweep Daisuke's legs out from under him. Daisuke let out a short curse as Taichi just barely missed one leg, only to trip up the other and make him hop back on one leg in an attempt to regain his footing. Taichi was entirely too good with his legs, so Daisuke had to target something else. The problem was that Taichi would expect any kicks now, and any attempts to unbalance him by the legs would be futile. But...

Taichi's eyes widened in surprise as Daisuke's open palm swung out to catch the wrist on his weak side. Fingers closed tightly and Daisuke yanked his arm away from his center of balance, making him stumble in an attempt to regain his footing. Daisuke darted behind Taichi, dragging the arm with him and twisting it against his back, and then trapped one of Taichi's feet behind his own. The sharp pain from his left arm and a lack of good balance would have made it all too easy for Daisuke to shove him face-first in the sand and finish it all. And yet, amazingly, Daisuke let go of his arm and instead helped him regain his footing. Not that it helped, for soon enough they both collapsed on the sand in exhaustion.

"How'd you guess to take me down that way," Taichi asked once he regained his breath and brushed the majority of sand off his skin.

"I noticed that you focused a lot on your legs, but didn't pay much attention to your arms." Daisuke felt very clever for figuring it out. "I knew you'd be expecting any kicks from me after the first bout, so I had to take advantage of the parts of your body you weren't paying attention to. Gotta expect the unexpected, y'know?"

Taichi's agreement was reduced to mumbles as he pulled a shirt over his head. Figuring it was as good a time as any, Daisuke followed his example. By the time the sun had fully risen from the horizon, they were both fully dressed and waiting for everyone else to wake up.

"So, did Hikari tell you about her dreams," Taichi asked after a long period of silence punctuated by the occasional sleepy activities of a few congregation members. Daisuke was fairly surprised to see a thoughtful expression on Taichi's face.

"Some of them, I think. Why?"

A resigned sigh and Taichi reached up to pull off his goggles in one quick tug. He regarded them for a moment before folding the lenses against each other and wrapping the black elastic band around them. "In her dreams, you're wearing my goggles. I didn't think much of them, but then you turned up and actually exist. So... Here."

Daisuke blinked in surprise at the proffered goggles. "Dude, I don't know if I can take them."

"Oh, come on." Taichi pressed the goggles into his hands, despite his best efforts to deter him. "Take care of them for me."

His fingers closed around the old goggles even as he tried to come up with some other excuse to refuse them. Nothing at all came to mind. "I'll do my best. Thanks."


	12. Beauty in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeru and Daisuke meet with the Shogun of Niigata. Problem is, the Shogun isn't whom anyone expected.

Farewells were never harder to follow through with as they were today. Daisuke seriously considered tossing his job into the air and staying with Hikari's congregation. She had a special relationship with the world that carried over to her sermons and rituals, and an intimate understanding of human psychology that made it seem like she understood every personal problem brought to her attention. He could learn a lot from her if he stayed. Everyone was really nice and they welcomed him like family. But then again he still had Jun and Takeru to look after, even if Jun was too pig-headed to appreciate it and Takeru unlikely to welcome the attempt.

If nothing else, he tried to keep to his promises.

Long after they had gotten into the rover and drove off to Niigata, Daisuke still felt warm and happy. In the process of bidding them farewell, Hikari hugged Takeru _and_ him! It was a purely friendly gesture, as was Tailmon's nuzzling of Patamon and V-mon, but it still felt nice. Taichi then made sure the goggles were set properly on Daisuke's head, over the leather headband from Mako, and gave them each something to take with them. Takeru got the introductory letter to the Shogun and a hint as to how to get on the Shogun's good side ("Praise the beauty of his wife and son," Hikari had said with a mysterious twinkle in her eye), V-mon and Patamon got their own little boxes of rice cakes, while Daisuke got a letter he wasn't supposed to open until the date set on the sealed envelope. This date was at least a couple of months from now.

He really wanted to open it. It wasn't like they would actually know, right? What harm would it do? It didn't feel like there was anything more than a piece of paper within it. For a while he stared down at the envelope, torn between curiosity and his own kind of honor system, until Takeru spoke up.

"Do I have to take that away from you?"

Daisuke shoved the envelope into an inner pocket of his jacket in irritation. "No! I'm just wondering why I have to wait so long."

Unreadable blue eyes caught his for a moment before returning to the road. "She does that sometimes. If there's a truth she wishes to tell you but she doesn't think you're ready for it yet, she'll write it down and seal it up for a future date, when she thinks you'll be ready."

"But why," he asked, genuinely confused by the idea.

"Part of it is because she wants to avoid conflict. She pulled the same thing on me several times, trust me. The other part is because sometimes people just aren't ready to face some truths until later." Takeru's expression turned thoughtful as he spoke. "Funny thing, truth. People say they want it so much and sing praises of its beauty, but it can be ugly and destroy lives as well."

Even more confused, Daisuke stared at his companion. "What could be that bad? I mean, it's not like I expect more from her than she's willing to give."

Takeru simply gave a small shrug and did not answer.

It was some time before either human spoke again, even though the digimon kept up their own little conversations between them. Daisuke kept stealing glances at the map. It was some two hundred and fifty kilometers to Shibata, home of the Shogun and new capital of what used to be the Niigata prefecture. Daisuke's travels had never taken him there before. According to rumor, the locals were distrustful of outsiders and the new samurai were not people to cross. After the samurai made an example of a group of small-time bandits, raiders never dared to cross the borders again. Niigata was, in short, someplace one didn't want to visit with anything other than pure intentions.

This, of course, made Daisuke wonder if their intentions were really as pure as they thought. He had faith in Ken and Sora's desires to protect their future, but he wasn't so sure of the rest of Iwakuni. Jianliang was one huge question mark as far as he could tell, and he didn't even know very much about the rest of the Council. What if Ken got politically outmaneuvered or something? Then what would happen to the alliances? More to the point, what would happen to _them_? From what he heard, the Council wasn't all that happy with Ken's collection of agents. After all their work, would they end up being dismissed?

No. It wouldn't come to that. He wouldn't let it. If necessary, he would stand behind Ken regardless of the consequences.

.*.

One could usually tell when they were stepping into the Niigata shogunate. Stone lanterns served as border markers on the most frequently used roads. The cracks and potholes in the roads were filled with mortar, broken tree limbs were cleared away from the roads, and ever so often one could come across a farmer with a cart travelling to Shibata's market. If one was lucky, perhaps a samurai on a horse would greet them and let them proceed with no hassle.

Takeru considered himself rather unlucky in this respect. Roughly ten kilometers into the shogunate he noticed a watchman in the trees. There had been a shrill whistle and they were joined by a group of soldiers led by a samurai a few minutes later. With naginatas pointed at them from every direction and a few archers he was sure were aiming from the trees, he had no choice but to stop the rover. He could hear Daisuke mumble a curse beside him, but paid this little attention as the samurai led his horse closer to the driver's side of the rover.

"State your business, outsider."

For a moment, Takeru regarded the samurai with mild curiosity. The last time he passed through the region was years ago with Yamato, and the armory had apparently advanced a lot since then. Armor modeled after genuine museum pieces had replaced leather cuirasses and stitched-on scrap metal plates. It gave an almost eerie impression of staring back in time. He shook this thought before the samurai could repeat the order and responded. "Our boss wishes us to speak with the Shogun. Nothing more."

He couldn't tell what the samurai was thinking, for the scowling half-mask that was the norm for a samurai's helmet revealed nothing. All he could see of the man underneath were flinty black eyes staring him down, waiting for some insincerity to show itself on his face. "Not just anyone can see the Shogun. Do you have papers?"

"Yes! We do," Daisuke exclaimed. Takeru glanced back to see Daisuke leaning over the digimon to address the samurai. At his confused expression, Daisuke whispered, "From Hikari, remember?"

"Oh, right. Of course." Somewhat embarrassed by the fact that Daisuke remembered and he didn't, Takeru fumbled in his attempt to pull the sealed letter out of an inner pocket in his coat and presented it to the samurai.

The samurai examined the unopened letter and the white daub of wax that sealed it. Something softened in the samurai's eyes as they went over the insignia pressed into the wax. "Very well," he said as he returned the letter, "we at Niigata trust Hikari's judgment."

As Daisuke let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, the samurai turned his attention to the lower ranking soldiers and said something about escorting them to Shibata. During this, Takeru puzzled over the span of Hikari's spheres of influence. He had known that Hikari was getting powerful over the years, but he never really expected her to become quite so influential that her plain star seal was easily recognizable by all. What happened?

Takeru wasn't given much time to ponder this. The samurai gestured for them to follow him as the soldiers dispersed, and Takeru obeyed. The rover easily settled into a cruising speed that matched the horse's galloping gait. It wasn't long before they made it to Shibata Castle.

Many years ago, the castle had been destroyed in some fire or another. Takeru had never really cared to investigate the particulars. Then rumor said that the Shogun who came to power seven years ago raised up a militia, hired farmers after the harvest seasons, and for several years had them all work to rebuild the castle. Shibata Castle now stood as it had centuries before, with impenetrable walls overlooking a moat only spanned by bridges that led to well-guarded gates. Circling the moat were houses, many of which were well off enough to suggest ownership by the ranks of samurai answering to the Shogun, and street stalls watched over by merchants and farmers. The Niigata shogunate was, in short, a throwback to simpler times. Save for the occasional anachronisms, it felt like he had driven onto the set of an old movie about feudal Japan.

The guards posted at the castle gates eyed them warily, but they parted after a few words of assurance from the samurai. Daisuke and the digimon made no effort to mask their wide-eyed awe as he drove through the gate and into the courtyards of the castle main. Cherry trees, with budding pink blossoms, stood against the walls and stretched their spindly limbs above pathways occasionally tread upon by people in kimonos and sandals. They were led along a main pathway with little happenstance, until...

A man with a neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard as dark as his blue-black hair and traditional clothes, mounted on a tobiano-patterned paint horse, placed himself in front of the procession with escorts of his own. He looked very important and, to Takeru, very familiar. It was like he was facing Yamato's friend again, and yet-

"Daimyo Kouichi, what is the meaning of this," the samurai asked in a tone that was more than a little stressed.

Daimyo Kouichi's chill blue eyes drifted over each of them in turn, taking his time before deigning to respond. "I should be asking that of you."

"We have papers," Daisuke piped up helpfully. "From Hikari. We're here to talk to the Shogun. Is he in?"

A shadow of a smile tugged at the corners of Daimyo Kouichi's lips, but over what, Takeru couldn't guess. It was quickly suppressed before the daimyo spoke again. "The Shogun is a very busy individual. Park your vehicle and follow me." He then turned to the samurai. "Hiroyuki, please post a guard to watch the vehicle."

The samurai gave a terse bow and ordered one of the soldiers to look after the rover. Takeru's party obediently got out of the rover and followed after the daimyo. Oddly enough, no one paid attention to the digimon, as if...

... What if the Shogun had digimon too?

This bit of weirdness, along with Kouichi's eerie resemblance to Yamato's friend, nagged at the back of Takeru's mind. Now what could they offer Niigata? The military was organized, albeit primitive. From what he could tell of the marketplace, there was no shortage of food. The lack of attention paid to the digimon suggested that there were digimon here at some point. Would the Shogun even recognize the need to band together against Amaterasu?

They were led to the palace, where they were asked to remove their shoes before entering. In a time when the practice had mostly died off with the old world, the request was oddly reassuring. _Life goes on,_ it suggested, _and old traditions die hard._ They stepped into the slippers provided (with the exception of V-mon, who had wiped his feet self-consciously once he noticed that nothing would fit) while Kouichi dismounted and tied his horse to a post, and followed again as the daimyo led them through lamp-lit corridors. The maids they encountered along the way gave quick bows and gazed curiously at the outsiders before returning to their individual tasks. In time, they were led to a sliding wood-and-rice-paper door, where Kouichi told them to wait.

The moment Kouichi disappeared behind the door, Daisuke turned to draw close to Takeru and whisper. "I don't like this place."

Takeru couldn't help but blink blankly at that. That his companion didn't like some place on first impression was unusual enough to worry him. "Why's that?"

"Can't you feel it?" The hushed urgency in Daisuke's voice now alarmed him. "I'm not good with words like you are, but this feels _wrong_. Like..." Daisuke's brow furrowed in thought for a moment, then his eyes brightened as realization hit. "That's it! Everywhere else in the world, the kids moved on. Made their own marks on the world. We don't have to follow the old rules anymore. Everyone remembers how the adults screwed up and experimented in something different somehow. We have the nomads, Queen Ruki, Caesar Ken, Genki, Hikari."

A small frown appeared on Takeru's face at that. He suspected what Daisuke was trying to say, but... "Yes, and?"

"Here is an illusion of the old world. Like a movie or something. Samurai and a Shogun and kimonos and having to leave shoes at the entrance. It's all fake and I don't think it's good to cling to the old world like this. Even the Ainu don't go this far." Daisuke's eyes darted quickly to the door Kouichi disappeared behind before returning to fix on Takeru with a deadly serious gaze. "The sooner we're out of here, the better."

There was little for Takeru to respond with. Daisuke was very much one who preferred to live for the moment, but he himself had a tendency to cling to the past. Even if the shogunate was a revival of the days of the samurai, it was comforting in its own way. But, he did have to respect Daisuke's discomfort. "Okay. We don't have to stay longer than necessary. Want me to handle the Shogun on my own?"

"Yeah. Sure." Daisuke gave him a slight smile. "Thanks."

Shortly afterwards, the daimyo returned. "Lady Mimi has been expecting you. You may enter." And, with that said, Kouichi departed.

 _Lady_ Mimi? Takeru's train of thought came to an abrupt stop. He knew that Mimi was somewhere in Niigata, but _Lady_ Mimi couldn't be _their_ Mimi, could she? ... Well, he would find out soon enough, he supposed.

The door led to what looked to be a common room for someone of high rank to socialize with visitors. The first thing that struck Takeru, though, was the abnormal amount of _pink_. It was everywhere. Pink cherry blossoms and roses arranged in vases of pink porcelain, ink paintings on bamboo slats with just enough pink to pass as tasteful, delicately pale pink chrysanthemums on lacquered boxes and inlaid in tables. Were it not for the warm golden-browns of the tatami mats, wood, and the occasional streak of green to counterbalance the pink, he would have easily been overwhelmed by the color. And, standing in the middle of the room with a pink kimono and strawberry-toned streaks in her hair, was Tachikawa Mimi.

Of _course_ it was their Mimi. No one else would overdose on pink quite like her. Regardless, it _was_ nice to see her again. She threw all propriety in the air and bounced forth to envelope him in a surprisingly strong, just-bordering-the-notion-of-tasteful perfumed hug. He suspected that the perfume was pink, too.

"Oh, Takeru," Mimi bubbled once they parted. "It's been so long! And Patamon, it's so good to see you too! He said you two were coming, but I didn't expect you to bring company!" She then grabbed his shoulders and held him at arm's length. "And oh, you grew so well, too! Why, girls must be tripping over themselves to get your attention!"

There were many times during which he wondered what universe Mimi lived in. This was one of them. "Well, no-"

"Then they have no taste." Mimi leaned close and winked at him before whispering: "If it weren't for all that history, I'd consider having fun with you myself."

While he stared at Mimi, baffled, she turned her charms to Daisuke and V-mon. "And who are you handsome fellows?"

Overwhelmed, Daisuke could do little more than stammer. V-mon, who was not quite as susceptible to Mimi's blindsiding as his partner, responded for him. "I'm V-mon and he's my partner, Daisuke."

Mimi reached forward to tousle Daisuke's hair, but paused when she recognized the goggles. The good cheer dissipated slightly as she examined them, as if she was thinking about something that wasn't all that pleasant. Before Takeru could gather the wits to ask about it, Mimi gave Daisuke's hair a good tousle and stepped away. "You all must be so exhausted from your trip! Why don't you sit around the table and I'll have Palmon find one of the maids?"

Still somewhat stunned by Mimi's welcome, Takeru and Daisuke obeyed and settled on the tatami-covered floor before a low-set tea table. The digimon followed suit just as Mimi trotted to another room.

"What just happened," Daisuke muttered after a short interval of silence.

Takeru allowed himself a moment's respite before he responded. "Mimi happened."

Before Daisuke could bring up whatever was on his mind, Mimi returned with a small child clinging to her hand as if it was the child's only lifeline. Takeru honestly couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Long, shaggy brown hair hung over the child's face like a curtain, concealing whatever telling features there could have been. Not even the child's noticeably Ainu-influenced clothing in tones of red and blue with white applique offered a hint. "I hope you don't mind," Mimi said cheerfully, "but Sanin's going to join us."

The child's grip on Mimi's fingers tightened, Takeru noted. Apparently the shy type. The hair was the same color as Mimi's, sans the pink streaks, so he concluded that this must be Mimi's child. "Interesting name," Takeru observed. Naming children after places wasn't unusual, but "Mountain Shadow" was not so normal.

"Well, I would have named Sanin after the father, but he insisted otherwise." Mimi looked down at her offspring with a thoughtful expression. "Not that he had much say in anything in the end."

It was as good an opening as any other. "When Koushiro said you had a kid, he never said anything about the father."

"That's because it's not really important. I just caught him, had my fun, and released him back into the wild," Mimi said with a wink. "Besides, you wouldn't remember him. He was the only boy I ever asked out on a date."

Before Takeru could start on his opinions on split families, the child tugged insistently on Mimi's fingers until she looked down and asked what the child wanted.

"Mama," the child started in a voice that was just as gender ambiguous as everything else, though the use of a boy's informal speech suggested otherwise, "can I play with the dogs?"

"Not until Palmon comes back. You know I don't like you going out alone." Mimi gave a wry half-smile as her child sulked and returned her attention to the visitors. "Anyway, why are you boys here?"

"We're here to see the Shogun," Takeru said. Might as well get down to business before Mimi derailed them again.

Mimi's cheerful countenance faltered ever so slightly. "But the Shogun is so busy! You can tell me anything you want to tell the Shogun."

"We have papers from Hikari," V-mon offered helpfully, as if that would solve everything.

Mimi gave the little dragon digimon a tentative look, then asked to see them. She took the envelope Daisuke offered, broke the seal, and read it for several long moments. During this, Takeru wondered why Mimi was being so evasive and why she would be so high up that she was willing to receive information meant for the Shogun. But this kind of thing couldn't be said to just anyone, even if that person was an old friend.

Before Mimi was finished reading, Palmon returned with a maid close behind. The maid was of similar height and build as Mimi, but plainer and not as _pink_. She arranged the tea tray on the table, poured for them, and would have bowed out as quietly as she came in had Mimi not stopped her.

"Keiko, would you be a dear and see to the Shogun's armor?" Mimi's voice was ever so sweet in her request. "It should be repaired by now. And do let the Shogun know about our visitors so that there will be time for a private audience in the evening."

The maid gave Mimi a deep bow and slipped away as quietly as she had entered.

.*.

Daisuke liked kids. They weren't complicated like teenagers and adults were. So, when Lady Mimi sent Palmon to take Sanin out to the dogs, Daisuke offered to go along and keep an eye out. Mimi had said that it was unnecessary, but it gave her an opportunity to talk about old times with Takeru without having to explain everything to others. Besides, it let Daisuke and V-mon get away from the cloying perfume.

There was something peculiar about the child, though, something that made him wonder. Sanin was never without a guide or someone's hand to hold. Normal children of the same age would have at least looked around a bit or insisted on not being led. Come to think of it, Daisuke couldn't remember ever seeing the child's eyes from behind the curtain of light brown hair.

"Papa says he's gonna get me a dobermon someday," the child began conversationally as Palmon led them across one of the inner courtyards.

Palmon didn't falter in her pace even as she responded, "Sanin, you know dobermans don't make good guide dogs."

The child's blank expression didn't change, even though the voice started sounding sulky. "I don't need a guide dog. Papa says someday a miracle will happen and I'm gonna get better."

Palmon's expression turned to sadness as she went silent. It made him wonder what was wrong with the kid. He could ask once the kid was preoccupied with the dogs and-

A blur of color interrupted his thoughts as they came into view of the kennels. He froze instinctively once he identified the red-toned form as a massive dog bearing down on them. It stopped in front of them to give Daisuke a wary look, but then the child murmured something he couldn't hear and the dog's suspicion dissipated just enough to lick the child's face. For the first time since he met the child, Sanin grinned. Normal children would have displayed a wider range of expressions by now.

And then the realization hit: the child was blind.

.*.

The meeting with the Shogun was scheduled after supper, which was an elaborate affair of traditional Japanese cooking and presentation. Takeru followed proper etiquette by sitting with his legs tucked under him and holding his chopsticks in a precise manner, while the digimon scarfed down their food and Daisuke sat cross-legged in silent defiance. Mimi took no notice of Daisuke's lack of traditional table manners; and soon enough it didn't matter, anyway. She excused herself from the table, said something about alerting the Shogun, and walked out into the hallway and away from view.

As a maid began clearing away the dishes, another maid arrived to escort Takeru to the Shogun's private audience chamber. Takeru smothered the urge to say "about time" and left Patamon in Daisuke's care. He was led down a confusing labyrinth of corridors until they finally reached the audience chamber.

It was a room separated into two by a platform and a reed curtain with thin spacing between the slats. Takeru left his guest slippers at the entrance before stepping onto the tatami mat and settling into a kneeling position before the platform. Having never actually been in the presence of a real shogun before, all he had to work with were old movies based on the feudal era. He hoped it was enough.

A candle was soon lit behind the curtain, revealing two silhouettes. One had to be Mimi, for even though the reed curtain revealed very little and the lighting came up from behind, her hair was done up in the same manner and she wore the same kimono. The other figure, however, was seated directly in front of the candle and wore what looked to be an authentic suit of armor and helmet. Takeru was certain that this had to be the Shogun and bowed in a manner he hoped was appropriate.

"No need for such formality," the oddly familiar voice of the Shogun said. Takeru tried to rake his mind in an attempt to recall where he heard it before, but the Shogun interrupted him before he could get very far. "I have been told that you requested audience, but refused to talk to my wife. Why is that?"

"I would like to offer an alliance between our-" What were they, really? Organizations? Nation-states? Bits of land ruled over by children with no adult guidance? "-regions."

The Shogun hummed in a manner oddly reminiscent of Mimi, on the rare occasion she revealed herself to be more than just a pampered little girl and had more between her ears than fluff. "What do you offer? Niigata is in need of nothing from outside our borders."

Takeru decided then and there that he had to be honest. Something about the Shogun struck him as someone who responded better to honesty than impure motives. "I come as a representative of Caesar Ken of the Rocky Country. We just barely escaped a recent attack from Amaterasu's Cave."

There was a long, uncomfortable moment after he said his piece. With the Shogun's face deliberately hidden by the curtain and shadows, there was no way for Takeru to discern what the Shogun was thinking. Before he could consider interrupting, the Shogun asked, quietly: "Could you explain in detail? I'm afraid I know nothing of the parties involved."

With a reminder for honesty clear in his mind, he went to great lengths to explain everything he knew about their plight. He did not reveal Iwakuni's location, but everything else was placed out in the open. Amaterasu's probable command structure, Oikawa's revelations, human experimentation and the mutation of the virus, the men of fire, and the attack they had so narrowly avoided. He emphasized everything Oikawa told them, along with less sensitive matters discussed during Ken's last physical meeting with him, in hopes that the Shogun would recognize the need to band together. All throughout, the Shogun remained fairly quiet.

"War is a terrible thing, Takeru," the Shogun said after another long moment of silence. "We shouldn't seek it if we can help it."

Takeru blinked at the familiar use of his given name. Something felt off and he couldn't figure it out. "But-"

"This doesn't mean I won't consider it." The Shogun gave something that would have sounded like a giggle if his voice wasn't so masculine. "I do wish you'd have come straight to me instead of insisting on all this ceremony, though."

"With all due respect, Lord, it was hard to convince anyone to let me speak to you," Takeru felt the need to point out, even though that disconcerting feeling was nagging at the back of his mind. Unlike the strange vocal pitch, the giggle was all too familiar. It couldn't be-

"Anything that goes to Mimi goes directly to me." To his surprise, the pitch _shifted_ to a lighter, more feminine sound. "Really, Takeru, I'd have thought you'd figure it out by now."

He rather felt as if the Earth was shattering underneath him. When it didn't, all he could stammer out was: "Mimi!"

A small black box dropped to the floor as the Shogun rose to a height equal to that of the Mimi-like figure. Armored hands lifted off the helmet and long hair spilled forth to drape over the chestplate. The Shogun turned slightly to whisper something to the Mimi-like figure, who wrapped her fingers around the candle and held it up in front of the Shogun. It _was_ Mimi. The armor was exquisitely made, crafted to give her a more masculine appearance, with chrysanthemums pressed into the gleaming steel. The steel flowers were meant to suggest lineage to the Imperial family, but this only came to Takeru after his mind finished wrestling with the notion that Mimi was the Shogun. How was he supposed to know!

"One and only," Mimi said with a wink.

Mimi was capable of many more things than people assumed of her, but governing a shogunate wasn't one he would guess. His mind scrambled for reason. "You can't be the Shogun! The castle isn't pink!" It sounded incredibly stupid when he said that.

"We couldn't find enough pink paint that hadn't dried." Mimi's voice sounded far too amused.

"But _why!_ "

"Do I look like someone whose banner people would follow," Mimi asked with uncharacteristic soberness. "Do I look like someone people would take seriously?"

Takeru merely shook his head. Mimi smiled kindly at him, then ushered for Keiko to begin removing the armor.

"When I started here, nobody took me seriously." Mimi's smile was almost sad, despite her cheerful voice. "I'm too pretty for my own good, it seems! But I wanted to make a difference. Nobody would listen to me, of course. Unless you show strength, they never do. Then Sanin's father came along and offered me this. If I wanted to be taken seriously, I had to look powerful. To do that, I needed to change something about myself. He brought the craftsmen and together we built a small town. Things went well for a few years, and here we are."

It took Takeru a second to absorb it all. It made sense. Respect in this world was only won by either displays of power or cunning. Anything else and you had to fight for that respect. "But, why continue this charade?"

Mimi shrugged now that Keiko had removed the upper parts of the armor. "It's comfortable. Not the armor, of course, but there's security in knowing that people adore the Shogun. Besides, Sanin is heir apparent to the shogunate. How am I going to explain to anyone that his father isn't the Shogun?"

"Does he know," Takeru asked. That Mimi was pretty much a single mother didn't sit comfortably with him, but saying so outright would not have been a good idea. What kind of bastard was the child's father to just leave Mimi alone to raise him?

Mimi's smile became reassuring. "Sanin knows who his father is, yes. Really, Takeru, by the time I had him, I was twenty years old and already well off. I didn't have him by whim or accident."

Takeru frowned, but said nothing.

.*.

Once upon a time, there had been a child who nearly died in a midnight raid. He had been searching for his twin brother, desperate for family when his mother and grandmother had died, and was attacked for nothing more than carrying with him the few keepsakes his mother once owned. He remembered the pain when the bat came in contact with the back of his head, falling forward into darkness, then walking slowly towards a light. He didn't want to go, but his feet moved of their own accord. But he had to find his brother. But maybe his brother wouldn't care to know of him. His feet kept moving dangerously close to the light until a tall, dark man cloaked in shadows stepped in front of him. He didn't remember the words, but he agreed to let the man share his body if it meant he could find his brother. Then he and the man merged, and the light disappeared.

Since then, Kimura Kouichi was a man of the shadows. They served as shelter when he needed it and comfort when he didn't. While shadowed, no one could find him. He could spy on powerful people, win their confidences, and situate himself into a place where information could come to him. Perhaps someday he would be able to find his brother through the networks his status as daimyo laid out. He slipped easily into these shadows and let them envelop him as he stepped carefully around the Shogun's audience room to find the one spot where he would be sure to hear everything said.

He didn't trust Mimi. He knew she was hiding something more important than just the Shogun's identity, but every time he tried to find it out, he was stopped by the Tosa guard dogs that answered only to that blind child of hers. The child's power over them was, quite frankly, creepy. "He has his father's way with animals," Mimi had said fondly when she was asked about the strange occurrences when only the child could call off the dogs. But there were no dogs here. Perhaps he would finally be able to find out what she hid.

The conversation, while interesting, revealed nothing of what was hidden in the depths of Shibata Castle's most well-guarded storehouse. He was sure Mimi was stockpiling something, but he wasn't sure what it was and it frustrated him to no end. If it was resources she wasn't sharing with her people, he'd have to do something. As the conversation wound down, it became clear that Mimi was still undecided on the subject of helping an outsider go to war. Not that he was surprised, for she never had the will to dirty her hands with unpleasantness like war and criminal executions anyway. Such things had always been responsibilities relegated to him, and he had always carried them out with a passion for justice that was almost Rhadamanthine in its severity. But if Mimi decided to back out of an alliance, perhaps he could convince this Takeru that not all of Niigata was behind her. The military was his domain, and had been since the rise of the shogunate.

Kouichi let out a nearly soundless sigh as the movement in the Shogun's audience room indicated that the occupants would be withdrawing soon enough, and began retreating himself. He had gone only a few steps when he heard a familiar voice whispering to him.

"You shouldn't be here."

The shadows were too deep for him to look at the intruder, but he knew well enough that only Sanin could move through the darkness as quietly as himself. The child may have been cursed with blindness since birth, but other senses had sharpened to make up for the lack of sight. _Congenital cataracts,_ he remembered the doctor telling Mimi once, _quite curable under other circumstances, but now only a miracle would save the boy's sight._ Kouichi doubted the child really needed sight when he could hear better than most people. After all, no one had ever caught him before this child came along.

"Neither should you," he chided the boy with a whisper that was just as soft. "Where's your attendant?"

Sanin's voice was nonchalant, as if he wasn't doing anything wrong. "Palmon's playing with the other digimon. I just wanted some time alone."

A conundrum presented itself to Kouichi: if caught, he could tell Mimi that he was simply looking for her wayward disabled son, but she would almost certainly listen to the boy should he reveal Kouichi's latest espionage trip. The child was about as imaginative as a cardboard box as far as he could tell, and seemingly outlandish claims like espionage would be perceived as truth. Bribery wouldn't work, for the child was for want of nothing but a miracle to remove milky cataracts so dense that the child's own eye color couldn't be seen. Perhaps... "I won't tell if you won't."

The child seemed to regard him for one long moment. "I dunno..."

"How about we make a detour and raid Keiko's bakery for some of those famous sugar cookies of hers?" It had to work. Every child loved sweets.

He couldn't see it in the darkness, but the child's voice lightened with something he was sure was a smile. "Can I have them tonight?"

"Don't tell your mama," he said in a conspiratorial tone he was sure would appeal to the child. "You know how she is about your health."

"I won't!"

With the relief of a potential crisis averted, Kouichi guided the child away from the audience room. He could talk to Takeru later that evening.

.*.

Hikari was a priestess with links everywhere, Taichi was her defender, Jou was a doctor, Koushiro was an information collector and bar owner, Sora was a therapist when she wasn't playing second in command to Ken, Yamato pranced around singing on a stage in attention-grabbing outfits, and Mimi was a single mother masquerading as a man. It was that last bit that Takeru still had trouble parsing. She was, admittedly, doing extremely well for a single mother, but he still didn't approve of splitting a family like that. Even if Mimi was surprisingly dismissive on the matter of Sanin's father, he would have thought Mimi would have some feelings for the man. Isn't that they way things were supposed to go?

 _Not necessarily,_ the voice of reason reminded Takeru. The ideals of marriage and family had all died with the old world. They were mostly orphans, and their own children were conceived out of wedlock and typically either abandoned or raised by the community. For some reason, he thought it might be different here. There was so much effort extended to revive the past in Niigata that he believed even traditional family structure would be unchanged. Children, parents, grandparents, and other relatives under one roof, as it should have been. But then, past traditions no longer really applied, did they?

Daisuke was right. It was all just a pretty illusion in which the people of Niigata were living. What disquieted him was how easily it lulled him into a false sense of security. So easy it was to fall into old, nearly forgotten habits. The effect must have been intended, and he found it difficult to believe that Mimi would really go that far. But then, she was doing a lot of things he would never expect of her.

Sometimes he wondered if he ever really knew his old friends at all.

As the evening gave way to twilight, they had retreated to guest rooms kindly provided by Mimi and tended to by maids. Daisuke had asked how it went, but Takeru didn't feel like providing more than terse answers. He ignored Daisuke's frustration and closed the sliding door behind him to think. The digimon remained silent all throughout.

Naturally, when he heard a knock on his door, he ignored it in the belief that Daisuke had decided to pursue his line of inquiry. After a fourth knock, Takeru growled, pulled himself up from his seat on the tatami mats, and yanked the door aside.

Daimyo Kouichi stood in full regalia, and one dark eyebrow quirked at the amount of force used. Takeru blinked blankly for a moment before ushering the man in. This might be interesting.

Once the door was secured and they were seated around a low-set tea table, Kouichi began. "I come to offer you an alternative should the Shogun refuse your alliance."

Surprised, Takeru had nothing with which to respond. The daimyo allowed him a moment to absorb that before continuing. "Niigata has gotten fat from complacence. The Raiders no longer haunt our borders and the few enemies we have are only waiting until Lord Sanin takes the throne; they believe something as meagre as blindness will mark him as a weak leader. Thus, even our military has grown lazy. I feel that an alliance will work in our favor as well as yours."

"You're willing to do this behind Mi-, er, the Shogun's back," Takeru asked, still in a state of surprise.

A humorless half-smile quirked at a corner of Kouichi's lips. "Shogun Haruhito and Tachikawa Mimi are one in the same. She is just as prone to corruption as anyone else in power."

"What do you mean?"

"She has been stockpiling something, but refuses to admit to it. We believe that she's siphoning her people's resources for her own use. Were she innocent, she would not have dogs posted as guards to the storeroom. Our people's exports mysteriously disappear, and any trade records are destroyed by her orders." Kouichi regarded him soberly. "I am not a man prone to treason, but the good of Niigata outweighs one woman."

For several long, agonizing moments, Takeru considered the daimyo's words. Mimi was a good person. She had always been a good person. Surely there was a reason for that kind of secrecy. She did have a good reason for playing her role of Shogun, after all. Maybe all he had to do was talk to her and get everything cleared up. Until then, he had to stall. "I'll have to talk to the Caesar first. Surely you'll understand."

Kouichi nodded in acknowledgement. "Very well, then. Let me know of your decision before you leave."

Takeru gave his assent and escorted Kouichi to the door. In the light of whale-oil lamps, he again noticed a distinct resemblance to Yamato's friend. As Kouichi began stepping out into the hallway, Takeru paused to speak. "Daimyo Kouichi?"

The daimyo stopped and turned to look curiously at Takeru. "Yes?"

"You look like someone I know. Sort of. It's hard to explain. Do you know someone named Kouji?"

It was Kouichi's turn to be surprised. His hands twitched at his sides, then lashed forth to grasp Takeru by the shoulders. They would leave bruises in the morning, Takeru was fairly sure. "Yes! My twin brother. What do you know of him? Where is he?"

"First bassist to The Teenage Wolves," Takeru said kindly, rather pleased with himself for perhaps reuniting at least one family. "It's my brother's band. They should be swinging up here in a couple of months."

A genuine but tentative smile appeared on Kouichi's face as his grip on Takeru's shoulders loosened. "I've heard of them, but never been to their concerts. I've always been too busy..."

Takeru couldn't help but smile in response. "You should attend one, then. He's really good."

"Thank you, Takeru," Kouichi said as his hands slipped away, and he began retreating to the shadows. "If you are ever in need of a favor, just ask and I will grant it."

Takeru made a mental note of this as Kouichi seemed to melt into the shadows themselves, then listened as the footsteps faded away. When he was sure no one was around, he began slipping silently away. He had to talk to Mimi.

It didn't take him long to find Mimi's quarters again. He knocked at the door frame and waited for her answer. When he heard a muffled invitation, he opened the door. Mimi was seated on floor cushions with her back supported by the wall and her son curled up by one side and Palmon curled up by the other. She lowered the book she had been reading aloud to the child and looked up at him. "Bit late for a visit, isn't it?"

"I need to talk to you."

Mimi sighed and closed the book. From the cover, he guessed it was an old Tezuka manga. "Then talk."

Takeru closed the door behind him, stepped out of the guest slippers, and settled before her to go over Kouichi's discussion. He dropped all references to who his informant was as he went along. It would not do to betray Kouichi's trust, especially when the daimyo looked to be a valuable personal ally of his own. Mimi's frown of upset deepened as he wound down. He couldn't blame her for being unhappy with the accusations, but he did need the truth.

"You want to know what I'm hiding, then," Mimi asked quietly. When he gave her a small nod, she nudged her son and digimon partner to the side to rise. Sanin made a small sound of complaint, but rose as well. In an almost automatic gesture, Palmon reached out to give Sanin a hand to hold. "Very well. Let's go to the storeroom."

The walk to the storerooms of Shibata Castle was through paths just as labyrinthine as a similar walk he took earlier that day. But now it was night and they only had a whale-oil lamp to guide them. However, Mimi seemed as certain of the way as she was of her independence. As they approached the innermost storerooms, Mimi spoke for the first time since they left her quarters.

"I'm taking you down here only because I trust you," she whispered to Takeru. "I know you'll understand." He said nothing in response.

Presently they arrived at a door guarded by a pack of attentive Tosa dogs. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a reminder that they were native Japanese dogs cross-bred with mastiffs and great danes to add bulk to their already formidable bodies. The sumo wrestlers of the canine world. They rose from their haunches in a uniformity that would make most drill sergeants jealous and bared their teeth. The blind child stepped forward then, fearless in the face of dogs big enough to crush his small form, and told them to sit. They obeyed as one, and as they did so, their ears perked and tongues lolled out in an interested but relaxed posture. Sanin giggled and reached out tentatively until his hand met with a dog's muzzle.

With the dogs thus occupied, Mimi ordered Palmon and Patamon to stay to watch over Sanin while she led Takeru into her treasury. The day of surprises was about to go out in a bang.

Fine art paintings, sculptures, and museum pieces filled the storeroom from wall to wall. Lamplight limned elegant picture frames and the contours of statues great and small. Takeru could only stare in awe.

"You understand now, don't you," Mimi whispered. "Nobody appreciates beauty anymore. Take what's useful for survival and destroy what isn't. But we need beauty. It reminds us that there's more than just the struggle to survive that makes life worth living. It serves as our bridge to the past. Without it, what do we have?"

Takeru shook his head, clearly at a loss for words.

When the silence went on for too long, Mimi continued. "Before I started rebuilding Shibata, I found a museum. It had been robbed of weapons and armor, but all the artwork was destroyed. The hard work of nameless artists from centuries ago was gone. I couldn't let it go on, but I needed resources to encourage people to sell me everything here. Someone had to protect it so our own children can enjoy it, but I was the only one who cared enough to do something."

There was a strange lump in Takeru's throat that made it hard to swallow. He understood, all right. He understood entirely too well.

Mimi turned to pin him under a surprisingly strong look. "If your Caesar can provide me with a more secure place to store the artwork, it's a deal. You'll have your militia if I have a safe haven for all this."

Takeru remembered that there were entire sections of Iwakuni Base unused. Surely Ken would understand and offer that space for storage. "I can't see why he wouldn't agree. It's a deal."

A smile as stunning as the morning sun graced Mimi's pretty features. "I'm sure Kouichi will welcome the chance to reactivate the military."

 _He'll probably be relieved to know that there's nothing as sinister as he thought was going on, as well,_ Takeru thought. He didn't voice it, but he was sure Kouichi would understand too.

For a day full of shocking revelations, it had ended well. Iwakuni had another powerful ally.


	13. Nocturnal Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruki's been deposed, and rather than deal with anyone new, Ken sends Takeru and Daisuke to put her back in power and save another team in the process.

At five in the morning, the base was just quiet enough for Jianliang's tastes. His wanderings at this hour were triggered by force of old habits that took root long ago. The silence and isolation gave him freedom to think things over and consider information overlooked during the daylight hours.

Sometimes, if he so fancied, he could imagine Osamu walking by his side. No words had ever passed between them during the early morning walks, for they each had their own worries and thoughts to ruminate over. It was enough to know that he would not be asked about his past, and that all Osamu cared about was his capability to perform the tasks assigned to him. Having felt at the time that his claim to humanity was ill-suited, he took comfort in being capable. If nothing else, he was a good worker.

The corridor led to several security monitoring and communications rooms. A memory of his last walk with Osamu came to mind as he passed a surveillance room. He was settling into his new job as chief of security and Osamu had ever-deepening shadows under his eyes. Here was where Osamu shared with him his grand plans, because no one else on the base would understand. As much as Osamu loved his brother, Ken was too emotionally driven to appreciate the scale of what he had to do. Running the base had distracted Osamu from his work, he needed to get away, and surely Jianliang would understand that some sacrifices had to be made for the common good. Ken could never know what really hap-

Why was the door to the communications room unlocked?

.*.

Watches, and the batteries to run them, were a rarity that even Iwakuni couldn't afford. There were no specific times during which the agents were supposed to report, so they just hoped that certain periods of the day were sufficient. In this case, Takeru was told to report in at dawn. He dragged himself and Patamon out of a too-soft futon at the first rooster's crow to shuffle through the castle, wave drowsily at the guards, and settled into his seat to pick up the radio's handset and hoped Ken was up. Patamon found a soft spot in the seats and resumed his sleep.

He expected Shaochung to pick up and greet him in her usual cheerful manner, and there was never any reason to suspect otherwise. When she did pick up, her tone surprised him. Shaochung did not normally sound so worried. "Which team is reporting in?"

"PV," Takeru stated. He listened carefully, and when he heard no digimon in the background, his own concern mounted. "Is everything okay there?"

Shaochung's voice cracked suddenly. "No. Please, you have to save my brother, Ta-"

"I'll take it from here," Ken interrupted. Takeru's concern turned to full alarm, then to dread as Shaochung started crying in the background. The only Li agent on the field was Lianjie, wasn't it? Which meant Jun was with him. Suddenly, Takeru was thankful that he decided to let Daisuke sleep in.

"What's going on, Boss?"

There was a pause before Ken responded with a question of his own. "Is Daisuke there?"

"No." Alarm gave way to suspicion. "Why?"

"Well then..." The man on the other end sighed before continuing. "There was a leak and the PG team was captured near Hiroshima. We're investigating the source of the leak."

The urge to groan was quickly stifled. Of _course_. "Queen Ruki's still hunting us, I take it?"

"Surprisingly, no. Jun's last report stated that there was a plot to dethrone Ruki." The pause that stretched afterwards was too uncomfortable for Takeru's tastes. He was surprised at the turn of events, certainly, but Ruki was hardly someone he cared for. "Well." Ken's voice became uncertain, which only served to worry Takeru more. "Listen, I'm going to ask a huge favor of your team. Your team is the only one capable of the task."

Takeru didn't like where this was going. No. Ken wouldn't... "What is it," he asked, though he was sure he didn't want to know.

"Ruki is a known element, but we know nothing about the person now in her place. I want you to get the PG team out of there, but if Ruki is still alive, we need to have her re-instated to her throne."

He stared blankly at the rover's dashboard as he considered the request. Ken _couldn't_ be serious! "You're worse than Daisuke at jokes."

Over the crackling connection, he could faintly hear a dry, humorless chuckle. "It's not a joke."

He sighed and scrubbed at his face before answering. "Let me guess, there's another reason you're not telling me about, so asking about it is pointless and I should just be a good little agent and do as I'm told."

"Yes, very good," Ken said. "You might just make a good military man after all."

"Sorry, I'm not that obedient."

"While blind obedience has a certain appeal, it is overrated. It's much more interesting when people question the status quo." His boss then cleared his throat. "So, what of the Shogun?"

Relieved at the change of subject, Takeru went over the talk with Mimi, careful not to bring up the Shogun's true identity. "He says he'll send some tin soldiers if you're willing to put his art collection into safekeeping. Don't you have space down in the basement?"

"How big an art collection?"

"We're looking at..." he paused to check over the memory of too many art pieces cluttered into a large storeroom and made an estimate. "Enough to start up a small museum."

As he waited for Ken's answer, Keiko came up to him with a sealed scroll and gestured for him to open it. He broke the pink chrysanthemum seal, scanned the contents, and thought he might as well give Ken something else to consider. "Oh, and they're offering to send a small escort. It's not necessary, but we could probably use the help."

"So long as you blindfold them once you get within the required number of kilometers near home base, fine. Do they want to send a representative to talk things over, too?"

Takeru glanced at Keiko, who was apparently waiting for something. Her gaze turned pointedly to the handset and she shook her head. "Doesn't look like it. They probably just want to see what they're getting into."

"Very well." Ken paused. After a minute of silence, he resumed in a voice so soft that Takeru almost didn't hear it. "Be careful in Osaba."

Though surprised at Ken's words, Takeru couldn't help but tease. "Careful, you might give the impression that you actually care about us."

A chuckle sounded under the crackling of the radio connection. "Oh, sorry, I keep forgetting the part where I'm supposed to be a soul-sucking vampire. It shan't happen again. But, for now I have to get back to work and you have to come up with a way to break the news to Daisuke. Over and out."

The radio clicked off, and Takeru wondered how long he could manage to hold off on having to tell his companion. The handset he stared at offered no answers.

Patamon's small, eternally young voice broke through his reverie. "You have to tell him sometime."

.*.

Daisuke started out of bed, his gut instinct having woken him with the hint that _something_ was off. It wasn't the unnatural way that the people of Shibata clung to the idealized past; that just nagged at the back of his mind, not entirely ever-present, but it came up when he was reminded of the oddness. This was more like a thin film of wrongness lining the pit of his stomach.

"What's wrong, Daisuke," V-mon mumbled groggily as Daisuke rushed into his clothes.

Daisuke paused, frowning as he tried to figure out how to explain it to a digimon. "Ever get the feeling that it's going to be a bad day?"

"Nope!"

He stuck his tongue out at his partner. A moment's silliness always made him feel a bit better. "Well, thanks for making me feel paranoid."

V-mon beamed at him, happy to have offset whatever Daisuke was feeling.

It hadn't taken long to go through the daily morning rituals and trot out of the guest room with his partner. Takeru's unwillingness to talk still bugged the hell out of Daisuke, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He was sure an opportunity to confront his friend would present itself soon enough, but first he wanted to get out of here.

The courtyard was really very immaculately kept. Not a blade of grass or piece of gravel was out of place. He missed the chaos of other settlements, wherein people were less concerned in pretending they were in the past and lived in the present. It wasn't as if there was no place for order, but there was a difference between natural order and going a bit too far. And then-

"Yo, Daisuke," a too-familiar voice shouted from behind him, which was then accompanied by a sharp clap on his back that felt like someone was trying too hard to come across as strong. A quick turn on his heel and he found himself face to face with a pair of twinkling green eyes. "Been entirely too long, buddy!"

Daisuke took a moment to regain his ground and look over the young man standing before him. Well, "woman," if one wanted to be technical and ignore Rei's wishes. Considering what Rei did to people who didn't heed his wishes, Daisuke figured it was best to go along with them. Long of limb, short of hair, and skinny and androgynous enough to pass, Rei could easily be seen as how he envisioned himself.

There had been a point in Daisuke's past when he had tried that "finding yourself" thing people talked about but never actually discussed ways to do so. It ended up getting him into scrapes with people bigger and stronger than him, and he chose instead to figure out how to really defend himself. Much searching later and he found a young martial arts master and his apprentice with whom to study. He learned quickly once he got some humility knocked into him, but could never quite catch up to Rei. The master had been killed by Raiders and Rei took a bullet to the knee. That had been, what, seven years ago?

He grinned and the thin film of wrongness dissipated somewhat. "Way too long. What're you doing here?"

A strawberry-blond eyebrow, nicked by a knife long before Daisuke met him, arched at that. "I live here."

"I never figured you for a, uh, traditionalist," Daisuke admitted. Rei fit tradition almost as badly as he did.

"Pay's good, no one gives a shit what's under my clothes, and the ladies adore me." Rei flashed a rakish grin at that. "I really can't complain."

He was all set to introduce his friend to V-mon when another sudden shout diverted their attention to the rover. Takeru waited with the kind of blank expression Daisuke had long come to identify as his secret-keeping face. There was that daimyo, Mimi, and a blond guy in black clothing he didn't remember seeing before. Mimi was waving at them to join her, and it took but a second to cross the courtyard.

Rei, Daisuke noticed with interest, looked decidedly besotted when Mimi so much as looked in his direction. Oh, no wonder.

"Daisuke and V-mon," Mimi started with a very officious tone of voice, "the Shogun has assigned Rei and Warren to escort you through the Niigata borders and back to your territory. They're good fighters and we have every bit of faith in them."

Daisuke was very aware that Rei's jaw quickly snapped closed as he nodded, and that V-mon scurried into the rover. Mimi glanced at Rei and gave him a reassuring smile. "I do expect you two back once you escort these boys back home." When Rei brightened in response, Daisuke was hard pressed not to roll his eyes. At least _he_ was never like that. He hoped not, anyway.

Mimi beamed at them, said something to Takeru that he didn't catch, and departed with a tell-tale bounce in her step and Kouichi close behind. Takeru didn't look his way when he waved Warren to his usual place in the shotgun seat, which only served to make Daisuke wonder what was going on.

"We have to depart for Osaba," Takeru said in that neutral tone that only made Daisuke certain that he was hiding something. The sudden smile Takeru gave him somewhat allayed that suspicion. "Why don't you two get reacquainted in the back, Daisuke? I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."

What could possibly be important in Osaba, Daisuke wondered, that required their presence? Maybe he was just nervy from the weirdness here and it would go away once they were on the road again. Nevertheless, it was a long trip and the ride would give him ample opportunity to talk with Rei and hopefully make amends for whatever he did way back then. Maybe, sometime on the road, he might even be able to talk to Rei about the Takeru issue.

.*.

Ruki's head throbbed. While not necessarily a new thing, its cause was a rarity not entirely familiar to her. It spread from temple to temple, aching dully in response to the events of the last two days. One morning she had two new dunces from the Rocky Country in her office. Really, she might have even overlooked them had that girl not marched right up to her and bitched her out for killing someone she didn't even remember. The memory finally clicked when she spared a moment to pay attention to the girl's ranting about the deceased's virtues.

Oh, that Okinawan from a while back had a girlfriend. Oops.

It all went downhill after that. The girl had the gall to slap her, she hit back with a fist, and before she knew it, someone fired a shot into her perfectly nice ceiling. In the time it took to take a breath, four assault rifles were pointed at _her_.

She'd heard all the rumors, of course, and all the variations derived over the years. Ambitious grunts made plans to take over Osaba on a fairly regular basis, but her boys had always managed to snip any future rebellions in the bud. While she couldn't yet ascertain the particulars of why this particular coup was successful, she had a fair idea. Akiyoshi joined her posse a couple of years back, figured out her system, and bribed her boys enough to get most of them to turn on her.

It was with some bitter pleasure that she plotted out her revenge, even as a gaggle of turncoats led her into the woods. Akiyoshi claimed that his was a bloodless coup, but she knew they planned to kill her outside of town and would use the Raiders as scapegoats. Hirokazu was among the group, but she could count on him. He and Kenta had been her aces in the hole since they joined her so many years back. When an opportunity opened up, Hirokazu would neutralize the others in the group and go with her to regain access to the school through Kenta. From there, Kenta would create a diversion and she'd be able to plant a bullet in Akiyoshi's brain.

If only these idiots would lower their guard...

What came next was the last thing she expected. An unarmed man jumped in front of the group with the oddest looking creature she'd ever seen close beside him. He smiled pleasantly at them and didn't waver even when two rifles pointed at him.

"Hi, guys," he said with surprising self-assurance for someone being faced with three cocked guns. "I'm here for the pretty lady."

The little blue creature next to him piped up, just as cheerful: "Hand her over and no one gets hurt."

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Hirokazu slip his gun quietly to the forest floor and step back. One of the other men in the assassination group shoved her to Hirokazu and stepped up to challenge the intruder. She would have thought he didn't have a chance-

The blue creature charged forth to ram its head against the attacking trio's shins, making them lose their balance enough for the unarmed man to yank away their guns. The would-be assassins quickly regained their balance and charged, though it served little purpose once the stranger dodged past them and swung his joined fists at the back of the closest man's head. That would-be assassin fell forward, unconscious, as another slammed his fists into the stranger's back. The stranger jerked reflexively and stumbled, but not before his creature companion kicked the attacker's legs out from under him. The one would-be assassin still standing kicked the little creature away, but it rolled along its back and regained its footing fast enough to counter-attack and cling to its attacker's legs. Though hurt, the stranger gathered his wits and took advantage of the opening by repeating his knock-out attack on the attacker. The third was knocked out by the creature in one quick head-butt.

After a quick stretch and an audible pop as the stranger straightened out his back, he winced. "I'm gonna be feeling _that_ in the morning. Are you guys okay?"

Ruki blinked in disbelief, still surprised that the stranger and his creature managed to take on three armed grunts. Hirokazu answered for her, thankfully, even as he busied himself with slicing through the plastic ties around her wrists. "Yeah. Thanks. Who're you, anyway?"

"I'm surprised you don't remember," a dour, if familiar, voice called out from the bushes. Her suspicions were confirmed when the blond stepped into the clearing. He seemed no happier to see her than she was to see him. "You got Kai and his girl killed, if that rings any bells."

"His girlfriend is quite alive, or was before the coup," she snapped. She was faintly aware of Hirokazu murmuring that he would have done better than the stranger, and some guy with a mild limp asking the stranger where he picked up those fighting moves. The mention of the girlfriend drew the stranger's attention from the other guy, and the blond's face drained of color when the stranger's face whipped around to look at him in confusion. Interesting. "Did you know her too? Looks a bit like that friend of yours."

"We're here to save her and her partners," Takeru said quickly. At least, that's what she remembered his name to be. "Daisuke and Rei will-"

The stranger stared with rising horror at Takeru. "You never told me which team we were going to rescue. Who is it?"

"Daisuke, there wasn't time-"

Realization seemed to hit Daisuke as he apparently came to conclusions Ruki wasn't privy to, and the familiar mix of anger and dread she'd seen so often on other people replaced the horror. "There was _plenty_ of time! _Who is it_?!"

"The PG team." Takeru looked rather resigned to his fate as he answered. Very interesting.

"WHAT?!" Incensed, Daisuke stalked up to Takeru and gathered the front of the tattered grey trenchcoat in his fists. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this _earlier?_ "

Ruki rubbed at her sore wrists as the argument went into full swing. Her second-in-command rolled his eyes in disgust and returned his rifle to its rightful place on his back. She tuned out the argument once Takeru countered with the excuse that Daisuke was too happy talking with his friend that he didn't want to spoil the mood.

"They're obviously working for the Rocky Country now, if they weren't before," Hirokazu said quietly. "What should we do?"

While she still wanted access to the Rocky Country's resources, she had a bigger problem at hand. "Getting back at Akiyoshi is a bit higher on my priority list at the moment. Give me time to think and-"

A dull crack of flesh impacting flesh interrupted her, and she turned to see Daisuke stalk away with the confused creature trailing behind. Takeru remained behind, rubbing at his jaw, while the guy with the limp followed Daisuke and the other guy who remained unobtrusive stepped up to look at the newly forming bruise.

Boys, such dunderheads.

With a grunt of disgust at the proceedings, Ruki stepped up to the lead dunderhead. "If you want to save your friends, you need to know what you're up against."

Takeru looked up at her in surprise. "What's the catch?"

"Simple; you help me and I help you. I'll tell you where to go and what to expect, you give me the manpower to oust Akiyoshi." Ruki spared a glance to Daisuke, who apparently noticed them talking and stalked over. "With your friends, there shouldn't be much trouble."

Hirokazu, recognizing the deviation from her original plans, spoke up. "So what do we do, boss lady?"

Though torn between dark amusement at the idea of working with the agents of the Rocky Country and displeasure towards the idea of asking for help, Ruki voiced her thoughts the best she could. "The original plan was for me to wait back here until the moon was at its zenith while Hirokazu went back to tell Akiyoshi that I was causing trouble and killed the others before he killed me." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other strangers gather to listen in and continued as if she never noticed them at all. "We have an insider who is intended to let me in, he answers to Kenta. Now that you all are here and want to save your friends, here's what I'm thinking-"

"We're storming the place," Daisuke cut in more viciously than she would have expected from someone who was grinning in such good nature earlier. She very much wanted to hit him for interrupting her. "They're not expecting us, right?"

"We can't go charging in," Takeru responded, ignoring the wilting glare Daisuke shot at him. "The school is too well defended, and someone has to stay behind to keep an eye out-"

"Fine. _You_ stay behind with 'boss lady' and Patamon here. Rei and V-mon are coming with me. Warren...?"

For the first time, the quiet little blond man in black spoke up. "I'll go too. I am trained in some elements of ninjitsu. If we had someone who knew the place well..."

"That'll be me," Hirokazu said. "I can show you where to sneak in and how to find the holding area. Akiyoshi shouldn't be expecting anything; he's cocky and paid me way too much to off the boss lady." Ruki's curiosity peaked at that, and Hirokazu flashed her a quick grin when he saw her looking at him quizzically. "Shame I like the boss lady too much for that payment to do much."

If that was meant to be a poor attempt at flirtation, she was totally going to kick Hirokazu's ass once all this was over. For now she ignored it and turned to Takeru. "I assume it's all decided."

"We'll wait behind until the moon's zenith, then meet with your insider. Daisuke's group will rescue the PG team and we'll manage Akiyoshi." Takeru looked at her thoughtfully. "Am I missing anything?"

She shot Daisuke a glare. "Nothing, except... I don't care if your rushing in gets you killed, but try to keep it quiet and listen to Hirokazu. The less attention you draw to yourself before you rescue your friends, the better your chances are to survive."

Much to her surprise, Daisuke stuck his tongue out at her and stalked away. Abashed at the sheer childishness, she had no time to respond.

Hirokazu left with Daisuke's party an hour later, leaving her alone with Takeru. If he expected an apology from her-

"Let's go back to the rover," he muttered sourly. "Patamon's probably worried and hungry."

God, she missed being in power. No one would have dared talk to her like that and expected no repercussions. Grudgingly did she follow him, and she was certain he picked the most unfriendly terrain to hike through just to spite her. They eventually reached the rover, but not before rows were raked into her legs by unyielding branches and thorns. The jeans took the brunt of the punishment and she'd probably have to have them replaced later.

Given the previous encounter with the creature named V-mon, she wasn't as surprised as she would have been when another creature flew out of the land rover and into Takeru's arms. It crowed cheerfully in a voice that reminded her of innocent children, and she faintly wondered if such innocence would ever be found in children again. The creature then stiffened and turned to look at her with big blue eyes.

Well, at least it was cute. She raised an eyebrow at its scrutiny and Takeru paused to look at her. "What's wrong, Patamon?"

Patamon looked back at Takeru, bemusement clear on its face. "Not 'wrong,' exactly. There's something, but I can't place a paw on it." With a sudden smile, Patamon continued. "Maybe I'll figure it out once we eat!"

Takeru's look turned thoughtful, and his response to Patamon was almost distant. "Right. Food."

Ruki snorted at that; it looked like Takeru just spaced out. Boys.

While Takeru began preparing supper, she looked over the familiar rover. It still had bullet holes from when her boys shot at it, and there were the remains of a long trip in the rover's bed. Emptied food bundles were balled up and strapped down by cables next to empty gasoline storage tanks and water bottles. Sleeping bags were tucked under the seats, and blankets draped over them. Everything suggested to her that they were on a return trip, which meant that the Rocky Country just might be closer than she thought.

"You won't find anything incriminating," Takeru called out from the campfire. "But since you're over there, care to toss me a water bottle?"

A quick search brought up a full two-liter bottle, and she chucked it at Takeru in hopes that it would impact with his head. It landed harmlessly in his outstretched hands, and she cursed her run of bad luck. Was a little enjoyment too much to ask?

"So, why was your buddy so pissed off back there, anyway," she asked once she got bored of rifling through the rover for something useful. "I'm guessing it doesn't happen often."

Takeru took particular interest in grilling vegetables. "His sister is on the PG team. I... didn't want to tell him before we came here. He was just so happy to see his friend-"

"And you didn't want to spoil the mood," Ruki interjected as she stepped into the makeshift circle around the fire. "I got all that from your little fight back there."

Patamon looked up from washing rice and gave his partner a half-hearted scowl. "I told you to tell him before we left."

Takeru sighed and threw some dried meat into the mix. "I know, I know. Let me have that rice."

Ruki watched as the blond and his partner worked together on the meal. Something about it nagged at the back of her mind, as if she was on the verge of remembering something that eluded her every time she tried to seek it out. "What is that, anyway?"

"He's a digimon," Takeru said as he situated a pot full of rice on a tripod over the fire. "Digital monster from another world. Kind of. It's hard to explain."

"Like spirits," she thought aloud. It made some weird kind of sense, and something clicked. "My grandmother was into Shinto, she believed in nature spirits. Before she died, she made me promise to set food out each night for this protector spirit she thought I had. Never saw any harm in it, so I did."

Takeru and Patamon exchanged glances, which rather annoyed her when they didn't say anything, then Takeru spoke again. "Did that food ever disappear?"

"Of course it did! Do you have any idea how many greedy bastards work under me? Look the other way and anything will disappear. When I was still in power, I could throw a dead rat outside my doorstep and someone would grab it out of habit." Ruki paused as she remembered that she would be sitting at her desk waiting for someone to bring her a hot meal right now, and silently cursed the bastard who sent her here. "I'm sure Akiyoshi has the same problem now."

Still Takeru looked thoughtful, and a little bit disbelieving. "Have you ever seen other monsters like Patamon?"

"No. I've seen a few zoo escapees running through old Hiroshima, but nothing alien." Ruki fondly recalled the tiger skin on her bed, acquired during the breakout of animals from Hiroshima's zoo, and again fantasized about killing Akiyoshi. He'd have probably tossed it out by now, unaware of how close that tiger had come to killing her.

With a shake of his head, Takeru seemed to throw off his train of thought and pull the boiled rice pot from its tripod. He shoveled portions onto little mess kit bowls and offered one to Ruki, which she accepted with a muttered "thanks." She raised an eyebrow as he set a fourth serving at a bit of a distance from the campfire, but said nothing. It was his business if he wanted to continue on old superstitions. However, when she noticed his little pet trying to peer into the ever-darkening trees, she spoke up. "So, what's he doing?"

Takeru looked up from his own bowl of rice and grilled vegetables just long enough to answer. "Looking for proof of something."

With a shrug, she went back to her food. It wasn't bad, just a bit bland. The company could be worse; at least he didn't seem to hate or be disgusted by her. The evening was young, though, and surely he'd do something to sour her opinion. Everyone did, sooner or later.

.*.

"So, you're a ninja..."

Warren sighed and turned to address the speaker for at least the third time that afternoon. "Yes, I'm a ninja. I can't cast magic, walk on water unassisted, or rain death from above. I can't magically disappear in a puff of smoke and reappear on the ceiling. My training has more to do with espionage and military intelligence than assassination. Anything else?"

"Well, you didn't have to be short with me about it," Hirokazu said with a grunt. "I was thinking that if anyone were to go with me into the school, it should be you. But if you're not up for it-"

"What do you mean, if anyone were to go with you? Aren't you going to need all of us," interrupted Daisuke, still a bit anxious from learning that his sister was captured and just plain pissed off that Takeru hadn't bothered to tell him until they got here. V-mon was the only one who seemed to be as irritated as he, and his digimon partner glared at Hirokazu with equal intensity.

Hirokazu gave him a quick, unreadable look and responded. "You're all nerves right now, and this is going to require caution. Stay here in the market until I send Warren back for you. Go ahead and pick a brawl if you want. Warren, come with me. Become one with the shadows or whatever when we run into the guards."

Growling, Daisuke turned away from Ruki's little lackey and glared pointedly at an innocent brick wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed V-mon retreating out of his vision and couldn't bring himself to care much. There were bigger things right now. He didn't have words for everything he felt, only that he wanted to punch a hole in something if he couldn't save his sister _now_. They had been separated for years and he _told_ her to be careful, but she didn't listen and now she was in danger and there was _nothing he could do!_ And then Takeru just hadn't told him anything, betraying his trust in the process. God, who was he kidding? Takeru had been hesitant about being friends with him from the start, and he'd gone and latched on _anyway._

"Hey you," Rei said gently as he laid a hand on Daisuke's shoulder. Though tempted to shrug it off and sulk, he listened. "Feel up to some sparring? I'm a bit rusty and teaching hasn't given me many chances for practicing."

If nothing else, Rei knew how to handle him. He turned and gazed solemnly at his friend. V-mon, he realized at last, had been at Rei's side. His partner looked awkward and confused by the situation, which he might have felt bad about were he not so worried about Jun. "I know, you want me to expend energy so I'll have calmed down when Hirokazu and the ninja come back, right?"

"That was the idea." Rei's smile was dry, humorless. "But if you're not up for it..."

"We're supposed to keep low profiles, aren't we?"

Rei turned to make a survey of the marketplace. No one had noticed them so far, even with a digimon dogging their steps, but if they started a fight now... "Since when were you hesitant, Daisuke? Let's just find a quiet street and spar."

A few minutes later, they found an abandoned playground in old Hiroshima. The grass growing where sand once lay would make a decent fall mat, and there shouldn't be any rocks poking out anywhere. Weeds were in the process of reclaiming the roads and poked out from cracks scattered throughout, dead leaves clogged gutters and any available depression, decay hung in the air, past earthquakes broke down several buildings. It was a common scenario found in every abandoned metropolis.

Rei settled into his ready stance, with balance settled over the good leg, and waited for him to follow suit. V-mon, realizing this was just one of those human things that confused him, sat on a swing to watch. "Remember, everything goes."

He could understand the subtext as clearly as if Rei had said it aloud: don't treat me like an invalid. As he tried to force himself to calm, he stepped away just far enough to be able to watch Rei. Anger, their sensei once said, clouded the mind and left them vulnerable to attack. But sometimes, rarely, the energy could be channeled if one had complete control of themselves.

Rei dodged out of his way as he attacked with the out-thrust side of a hand and redirected him with little more than a raised forearm. For a moment he stumbled, then regained his balance and swept out with an upward-angled kick aimed at Rei's good leg. With a quick sweep of a hand, his ankle was grabbed before it connected to the knee and was redirected in a way that unbalanced him. Unable to regain his balance in time, he rolled aside and returned to his feet. Using the moves they learned together would never work; Rei had always been faster and lighter than him.

Time for a change of tactics. His muscles stiffened as he solidified his stance and balled his hands into fists. Time to use weight to his advantage. He surged forth, his feet grounded each time they came in contact with the ground, and he aimed a fist at Rei's shoulder. As expected, Rei dodged, but fell into his trap all the same. His other fist came up against Rei's unprotected side, making Rei lose his balance and trip over Daisuke's extended foot.

Only faintly was he aware of V-mon cheering for him.

Stunned, Rei stared up at him from the ground for a few seconds. Daisuke just then realized that he could have seriously hurt his friend. "Er, sorry, I-"

It was his turn to be surprised as Rei suddenly laughed. "Been cheating and studying other martial arts, eh?"

Relaxing, Daisuke smiled and stretched a hand out to help Rei up. "Well, yeah, after you kicked me out, I needed to learn more and-"

Having already taken his hand at a point when Daisuke's guard was down, Rei rose just enough to regain his balance and strengthen his grasp on Daisuke's hand. Just as Daisuke's brain suddenly registered what Rei was going to do, his arm was twisted up behind his back and a sharp pang shot up his shoulder from the wrist. Before he could yell at Rei for cheating, he was let go.

Smiling, Rei bowed to him. "Remember, grasshopper, it's not over until defeat is conceded."

He was all set to comment when a movement in the distance caught the corner of his eye. Turning to look, he caught a glimpse of a woman in a monk's outfit walking by a ruined building. She returned his look with solemn blue eyes set in a pale face framed by white-streaked brown hair for just a moment, and then she disappeared into the ruins.

Anything Daisuke was going to say had died in his throat.

.*.

Everything added up to the suggestion that Ruki may just have a digimon and she was completely unaware of its existence. Frankly, the very idea baffled Takeru; Ruki wasn't nice to anyone, didn't seem to have many redeeming traits, and never saw one before V-mon. The disappearance of the digimon's share of the dinner, followed by a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye, only sealed it as a fact. Ruki again dismissed it, stating that animals must have eaten it when they weren't looking.

"It wouldn't kill you to look forward to something, would it," he asked once she shot down his suggestion. "A digimon partner is a wonderful thing to have." Patamon practically beamed at him for that.

"No offence, Blondie, but I have a poor track record of getting anything I want to just fall in my lap. Best I can do is work for what I get," Ruki snapped. She hadn't helped at all when he and Patamon cleaned up the campsite, which only soured his mood and he wasn't up for her attitude anymore. "Besides, why do _I_ need a digimon? I faired well enough without one!"

In an effort to put a damper on his exasperation before having to face her again, he spent some time securing everything back in the rover. "Well, everyone hopes for something," he said conversationally.

Takeru was sure that if he looked back, he'd be able to see Ruki glaring daggers at him. "Oh, let's see. I hope my grandmother doesn't die! Oh, she dies anyway. I hope my mother comes back! Oh, she's probably dead now too! I hope the boys just see me as one of the guys! Oops, I just barely manage to avoid getting raped, he goes to smear my reputation and I end up having to eviscerate him publicly. Did you know that some people shit themselves when they die? And oh, I hope that tiger doesn't eat me! Ended up cornered, having to scrabble for some sort of weapon, and the only thing that saved me was a broken metal rod lying on the ground. I still have the teeth scars on my shoulder, want to see them?" Ruki stopped her diatribe in disgust. She took a few breaths before continuing. "I don't know how sheltered you are at the Rocky Country, but out here in the real world, hope can get you killed."

Words failed to come to Takeru's mind, and the diatribe only made him feel ashamed of himself. Any sort of reassurance after that would be insulting, and silence would only prove her right. The only thing he could come up with was; "I'm sorry."

Ruki snorted in disbelief at that and pushed past him to return to Osaba. He was ready to follow her when Patamon whispered for him to look behind.

Slanted blue eyes in a vulpine face looked back at him, and the digimon in the trees nodded once in acknowledgement. Her voice was so low that he could hardly hear it. "I must confess that I have been negligent in my duties."

Before he could respond, convince her to stay so that Ruki could see her, or say anything, she disappeared.

.*.

Jianliang strode down Iwakuni's corridors with determination born of blood loyalty. His soldiers finally found the person responsible for leaking the information that got Lianjie and his partners captured, and now that person would pay. His pulse felt erratic in his neck as he closed the distance between himself and his prey, and he wasn't sure if the caffeine pills Ryo had given him once were to blame. He hadn't allowed himself sleep until he could find the traitor, and the lack of sleep was wearing him down. How did his double agent manage to go days without it?

By the time he reached the interrogation room, the traitor was already under the lights and sweating heavily. Good. Time to get to work. He sat across from the traitor, put on his best poker face, and began opening and closing an old cigarette lighter's metal lid. The clicking alone made most people nervous.

"Nakabayashi Tadashi, do you understand why you're here?"

The young man quailed under his words and shrank in the uncomfortable wooden chair. "Sort of, sir."

He flipped open the file in front of him casually, looking over the contents with bland disinterest. "You were recruited by Motomiya Jun four years ago. According to her report, you are 'trustworthy, knowledgeable in radio and television technology, creative, and loyal.' Why, then, would you betray her by alerting dangerous parties to her location?"

The lighter clicked again and again as he waited for an answer. Tadashi closed his eyes against the light, though Jianliang was sure the bulb had burned into his retinas by now. "I didn't mean to. I- She- I'm sorry! I didn't know-"

Click. Click. Click. He didn't have to say anything; they usually broke down on their own.

"I have a girlfriend on the outside," Tadashi said at last. He took a moment to wipe away some sweat before resuming. "We talk over the radio late at night, but it isn't enough. It's been so long since we've been together. I just wanted to-"

Jianliang put the lighter away and leaned close, staring unrelentingly behind folded hands. "According to the logs, you have contacted her six times before. Sloppy job of covering up your tracks, by the way."

The traitor looked up at him then, bewildered. "But I thought I deleted those entries-"

"We have safeguards," Jianliang said, his mind drifting for a moment to the backup system and redundancy file saving programs Osamu had him install so long ago. They couldn't save conversations, but they did keep track of access and hours. The most disconcerting thing was that Tadashi was a trusted staff member. What if someone who knew the system could get away with the same thing?

Sighing, Tadashi slumped further in his chair. "All I did was tell her that Jun would be in her town. She just wanted to join me."

Moments passed as Jianliang carefully read the unintentional traitor's body language. While obviously guilty, Tadashi didn't look to have anything other than good intentions. When he came to his conclusions, he rose and turned to the soldiers behind him.

"Put him in holding," he said in a measured monotone. "Ken will decide what to do with him once the PV team reports back and we have an assessment of the damage done."

.*.

The marketplace was empty by nightfall, and most folks retreated to the school or the huts and shanties surrounding it. The rest congregated in the bar, maintained by a gruff man who was none too pleased when his temporary help disappeared shortly after a brief revolution at the school. One young woman hid in the shadows between a couple of run-down stalls and waited for a sign.

Tadashi told her so much about the Rocky Country that she just couldn't wait to meet an agent and ask to be taken back. She would beg if she had to. Sure it was nice to live in Osaba, but she missed Tadashi and a change of pace was welcome. Everything he told her about the place only made her want to go all the more.

When the moon was nearing its highest point in the sky, something odd happened in the marketplace. Two men coming from Osaba met up with two men and a digimon coming out of the cursed part of Hiroshima that no one ventured to because ghosts were thought to live there. Her ears perked in an attempt to understand what they were saying. Something about going to rescue someone? Diversion? The one that dressed in black said something about weak points in defenses and advantageous routes, and that their best prospect would be to follow the bushes as far as they could until they reached the... something or other. They had to be from the Rocky Country, because no one else would dare infiltrate Queen Ruki's lair.

Gathering her courage, she took a few tentative steps into the wavering moonlight. She rather thought it was a good night for infiltrating, if that was their plan; it was a cloudy night and the turbines weren't yet ready to light up the entire perimeter.

"Uhm, hello," she called out tentatively. First to turn and look at her was a rather pretty man she might have been interested in if she wasn't already involved. "I'm Iria, and my boyfriend said you'd be here."

The prettyboy blinked at her in confusion at first, then smiled gently and took her hand. "Hello, Iria! I'm Rei. You might have us confused for another party."

She shook her head and looked at the others. "Is there anyone here named Motomiya Jun?"

A man with goggles on his head stepped up to her. "She's my sister. Why?"

Iria was sure her confusion was clear on her face. Did Jun come earlier and she missed it? Tadashi didn't have the times of arrival available to him, but...

Then she remembered the morning before, when there was a commotion in the market square and two people and a bundle of squirming something were taken away by Queen Ruki's posse. ... Oh. Oh dear. Tadashi said that the radio wasn't being listened in on, but what if Ruki's scientists had found out and reported it to her? Then that must have been Jun being captured and it was her fault and-

Rei's hand alighted on her shoulder in reassurance, and she looked up to see a brilliant smile that made her blush. "Don't worry, miss, we're here to get them out."

"Rei," the man in black interjected suddenly, "can't you wait until _after_ we save those people to start wooing the poor innocent local girls? And really, she already has a boyfriend!"

The other man that she recognized as a member of Ruki's posse suddenly grinned. "Man, I need to learn how to do that sometime."

Rei tsked at them in disapproval. "I happen to be doing nothing. It's not my fault none of you knows how to be gentlemanly to a woman in distress."

"Can we argue about this later," Motomiya groused. "I have a sister to rescue and would prefer to have that done _now_."

The little blue digimon next to Motomiya nodded enthusiastically, and for a moment she was entranced by it. She'd never seen a digimon before, and if they were all like this one, they must be fascinating!

In time, after several arguments over whether or not to take her and what the best plan of action would be, they let her come along. She followed, listening excitedly as the man in black, Warren, explained something about ninja tactics in his soft voice and Rei's presence at her side made her all too aware of her surroundings. Sometimes V-mon would glance back to make sure they were still following and smile reassuringly at her when their eyes met. They were all surprisingly nice about it.

Once they all reached the gymnasium, she was told to stay behind with V-mon in case it got dangerous. Then, one after the other, they slipped into the gym. Warren went first, slipping as smoothly into the darkness as if he was a part of the shadows themselves. Rei followed behind shortly afterwards, leaving Daisuke twitching at the entrance, and he was followed by Hirokazu. She could just faintly hear the sound of quick jabs to the flesh and Daisuke was waved inside. It sounded like there was a brief fight, and Iria took the moment to talk to V-mon.

"So," she whispered, "are all digimon like you?"

V-mon cocked his head curiously at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, do they all look and act like you? I heard a bit from Tadashi, but he never went into detail."

After looking thoughtful for a moment, he finally responded. "Well, we're kinda like humans in that we can all act different, but not in that we have different goals and ideals. Y'know? It's kinda hard to explain. Like, most of us know that there's a human we're supposed to be partnered to and that makes up most of our lives. Those that don't find their human partners can end up being bitter and mean. And when we find our partners, we're supposed to protect them the best we can. A lot of times we can't help and get left out, and it's frustrating 'cause we're supposed to do something and can't."

She nodded slowly. While she could understand feeling helpless all too well, the thought of knowing you had someone to belong with and spending a life trying to find that someone was a bit alien to her. When she had a response ready, Rei walked up to the entrance and waved them in.

Smoke still hung in the air, but it was rapidly dissipating, and the bodies of guards were slumped on the floor. She stepped carefully over the still-breathing bodies and followed Rei to a chainlink cage at the far side of the gym. Daisuke was busy embracing his sister, and a Chinese guy helped the others drag the bodies into the cage. V-mon bounded past her to meet up with a penguin-looking digimon and one that looked like a mix between a cat and a rabbit. Rei stopped her when she tried to move forward to help lock up the guards, saying that she shouldn't strain herself on the louts.

It _was_ pretty frustrating being left out all the time.

.*.

No words were said as they ventured into Osaba and infiltrated the perimeter, though Patamon made a point to flit around Ruki until she got annoyed and pulled him down to carry him in her arms. Ruki remarked on the good fortune of the guards being out cold, but Takeru suspected that the mysterious digimon might have had something to do with it. Eventually they made their way to the space below a second-story window still sporting a light. One of the scientists he recognized from his last venture into Osaba poked his head out to look over the countryside. When the scientist noticed Ruki, he withdrew long enough to drop a rope ladder out the window and Patamon took it as a cue to flap away. It hadn't taken long for them to climb up it and into the lab.

"Hirokazu said you'd be here," Kenta whispered. "You have no idea how glad I am that we have help." When he noticed Patamon, he suddenly smiled. "Hey, you're a cute whatsit, aren't you?"

Patamon rebuked him for the title, but enjoyed the attention entirely too much to be huffy about it.

Ruki sniffed and knelt at one of the storage cabinets. She pulled out a key from somewhere Takeru didn't want to know about and unlocked it. Hidden within was a pistol so ancient that it had a cylinder for bullets instead of a place for magazine clips. "Colt Peacemaker," she muttered in response to his inquisitive gaze. "Had it for years. Ready?"

Takeru glanced at Patamon, who seemed to be enjoying Kenta's pokes too much to move immediately. "I think your digimon might have already taken out any guards along the way."

"Is that what this is," Kenta asked, pausing in his tickling of Patamon. "Fascinating! Where-"

"Why are you so hung up on the idea of me having a digimon?" Ruki stood and buckled the holster onto her belt. "I can't even take care of a pet!"

"But-"

"Because everything points to it! Patamon's easy acceptance of you, even though you're Queen Bitch, the missing food and unconscious guards-"

"It would-"

"When will it get through your head that I never get anything nice unless I take it," Ruki snapped at him again. "Ugh! Like I'd have anything to offer one, anyway!"

"Oh, come on! I saw-"

"What the hell would I even do with-"

"WAIT!"

Everyone turned to stare at Kenta, who had been trying to get into the conversation for some time. He flustered at the sudden attention and coughed into a fist in embarrassment. "Er, well. I always thought it was weird how none of the other attempts at a coup were successful until now."

"So one asshole got lucky. Big deal." With a snarl, Ruki shoved past them to stalk to her office. Though ready to throw up his hands in exasperation, Takeru followed close behind. It wouldn't do for her to get hurt because he wasn't paying attention. Perhaps unwilling to be left behind, Kenta ran after them with Patamon in his arms.

Eventually they reached the former principal's office, and Ruki flung open the door with enough force that it bounced against the doorstop and caused the window to reverberate. They were all brought up short by what greeted them, though Patamon was perhaps the least surprised of them all.

Akiyoshi was slumped unconscious over the desk, but what drew their attention was the tall, yellow-furred fox digimon standing beside him. Upon seeing Ruki, she gave a deep bow. "My apologies, Ruki. I should have presented myself long before now. My name is Renamon, and I have done my best to protect you. I'm afraid my best may not have been good enough."

An uncharitable part of Takeru's mind rather thought that Ruki was doing a good impression of a fish that had suddenly found itself on land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All unfamiliar names are from D-1 Tamers (except Tadashi, who's one of Takato's classmates). Rei is also from that game and any similarities to the Rei from V-Tamer are purely coincidental. Please let me know if Rei (or anyone, really) comes across as a Marty Stu.


	14. Live at Suntory Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As thanks for helping her return to power, Ruki gives Takeru and Daisuke tickets to the Teenage Wolves concert.

The number of times that Ruki had been rendered completely and utterly speechless could be counted on one hand. She usually had a comment or snide remark ready, even if it never fully formed or left her lips. Barring that, she was at least prepared to struggle for a response. What stood before her was something she couldn't have imagined in her wildest dreams: all sleek muscle under short, soft-looking fur. It had a look in its eyes that reminded her of that tiger from so many years ago, and her breath only escaped her throat when she finally thought to breathe.

A number of questions tumbled from her mind now that she was allowing herself to accept this unreality. The first one she gave voice to was, unfortunately, probably not the best way to start anything. "So… how long have you been hiding from me?"

Renamon bowed her head. "I should have revealed myself from the start. My sincerest-"

Ruki waved away the apology. This was awkward enough without an audience. With one, she had other things to worry about. "Kenta, go find Hirokazu. Get him to gather the loyal upper ranks, tell them Akiyoshi's being taken care of, and you'll escort his group back here." As Kenta scrambled to fulfill orders, she paused for a moment to take stock of her digimon. Bewildering as it was, there wasn't time right now to take it all in completely. "Renamon, can you stay hidden? I prefer to have my aces in reserve. We'll talk later."

The digimon nodded once and seemed to melt into the shadows, which would have been more disconcerting were Ruki not already overwhelmed by everything that happened in such a short time span.

With Akiyoshi under a careful eye, Ruki perched on her desk and toyed with her revolver's cylinder. She would have to get rid of him somehow, and right now her position wasn't as secure as she'd like. Killing someone in front of a witness she still wasn't sure about just wasn't a good idea. She didn't keep genuine prisons and dumping him in the wire cage wasn't a long-term option. Exile him and he would only come back to try again. If she did unto him as he had intended to do unto her, especially so soon, suspicions would be raised. Not to mention that Takeru would likely never let her hear the end of it. Maybe she could dump him in the cage until the people from the Rocky Country were gone, then have him killed. It would be easier, and-

Teppei barged in, bellowing a stream of curses while waving his empty opium pipe around in one hand and holding an elegantly-made goblet in the other. She looked away from Akiyoshi for the moment to glower at him. "Mind repeating that?"

The glassmaster blinked behind grimy glasses at her, then Akiyoshi. Clearly perplexed by the arrangement, he tucked his pipe away in his utility belt, set the goblet on the table, and took off his glasses to wipe away the grime. In a world where pretty much everything was stolen from the dead adults, Teppei's glasses were different in both style and materials used. They had to be, he made them himself. His kerchief smudged grease around the shatter-resistant glass of both the lenses and dark-tinted rims, but he put them back on with no further attempts to clean them. Teppei's face, dirty with years of working both furnaces and fields, creased with a poorly-suppressed smirk.

"Well well," Teppei began, his usual self-assurance inflating his chest. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Give 'im hell?"

Grateful for a normal distraction, Ruki relaxed. She noticed Takeru sit quietly in her sofa and refrained from calling attention to him. "Not yet. You want a piece of him too?"

"This bastard had me woken up to make him a drinking glass worthy of him, since my last batch wasn't good enough," Teppei sniffed, as if mortally offended by the slight. He picked up the goblet again and stuck it under Ruki's nose. "It's good enough for an emperor. He wanted something better, like I'm some machine made to spin out glass at his whim."

Ruki plucked the goblet from his hands and looked it over. The delicate lavender shade of the main cup was accented by abstract colbalt-blue swirls arranged in a pattern along darker purple canes with strands of tiny white bands arranged in lattices along their lengths. "It's good enough for me. I'll take it."

Teppei shrugged. "So long as you stick by the usual deal, feel free to keep it."

The usual deal, of course, meant that Teppei kept his free room, workshop, meals, and the occasional cheerleader visit in exchange for him working his magic for her. "Of course. I-"

She didn't have time to finish that thought. Akiyoshi's hand lashed out to grab the revolver in her left hand. He yanked it backwards hard enough for her to lose her balance on the desk, and the glass slipped from her hands and shattered. What happened afterwards was a blur. Takeru attempted to jump in and somehow Teppei was there first to wrest the revolver from Akiyoshi. They struggled, but Teppei was the stronger of the two and slammed Akiyoshi's hand against the desk until Akiyoshi lost his grip. With the revolver in Teppei's hand, the glassmaster wasted no time. The shot rang through Ruki's office and left a splatter of blood, brains, and shattered bone in its wake. Akiyoshi never had a chance to fight back.

Utterly unrepentant, Teppei returned the revolver to her and rearranged his utility belt. "There's another version of that goblet. I'll send someone up to clean up the mess."

With that, Teppei gave her a mock salute and left the office. Takeru looked flabbergasted at the speed at which the execution was handled, and secretly Ruki was pleased. Teppei's actions were his own, not hers, and could be cited as self-defense.

The blond didn't have anything to say after that, though she could see the muscles of his jaw clench and unclench in the dim light of her lamp. It was… somewhat disappointing, but not unexpected. They waited after that, and she spoke only when one of the janitorial staff came by to clean up the mess and attempt to stammer an apology for siding with Akiyoshi. Two others came by to drag away the body, and she noted that one looked relieved, not apologetic. She'd have to thank him later for his loyalty.

When Hirokazu finally came back, it was with her tiger skin in his arms, Takeru's friends close behind, and Kenta bringing up the rear. Takeru rejoined them, and Hirokazu came to her side and leaned close for orders. She whispered her intent without being too obvious. "Let his head be a warning. Later."

Hirokazu nodded once. It was all he needed, and he gave her his own salute before handing her the skin and leaving.

_Perhaps it wasn't that bad a night after all,_ she thought, her eyes on the shadows where Renamon seemed to have disappeared into. The digimon's eyes barely opened into blue slivers that glittered yellow in the lamplight, and she had the sneaking suspicion that the digimon was agreeing with her. Which didn't make sense, but right now she could afford to be generous.

That reminded her. She drew close to the group, invaded their comfort zones, and drew their attention. "One thing for another. You guys get to stay the night, but I need my freedom and I doubt you'll want to stay longer than that. Kenta, take them to the guest rooms."

Kenta gave a quick bow and gestured for the group to follow him. Most of them were too tired to disobey, though Ruki did notice a few ugly glares. Takeru's last glance at her was curiously free of negativity, but she brushed that off as exhaustion. They were all exhausted.

Ruki waited until everyone was gone and the corridors clear before calling for Renamon. The digimon ghosted from the shadows to her side, and again Ruki had nothing to say. Nothing at all came to mind, and for now it was enough. There was something to be said for silence.

.*.

Iwakuni's council didn't often meet this late at night, but it wasn't often that there was a need for emergency meetings. They argued over the best way to punish Nakabayashi, and Ken himself sat at the head of the table trying to massage a headache away. Iori and his party argued for banishment, and Jianliang was sorely tempted to agree with him. Sora argued against this punishment as Nakabayashi's defendant, citing good intentions as reason enough for overlooking this transgression. Jianliang managed to keep from snorting at her naïveté. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, after all. Just look at where he was now.

Iori's argument was sound and backed by quotes he pulled from Osamu's guidelines. Letting Nakabayashi get away with nothing more than a warning would simply undermine the strength of the council's position and send the message that people could get away with any sort of crime they liked. Iori's protégé and part-time attack dog, Takashi, acted as emotional support for Iori's argument and backed it with his own personal experiences on the outside. Jianliang supposed he couldn't blame the boy; Takashi had been found under a pile of people killed by the Army for a Pure Japan and hadn't talked for years after his adoption by Iori. Iwakuni was the only stability Takashi ever knew. His passion, as ill-suited as it was to the dry discourse of political maneuvering of the council, was understandable. Their arguments were doing a good job in swaying the rest of the council.

Sora argued again for mercy and understanding, and again she was rebuffed by Iori's reiteration of some passage or another of the constitution. Finally, after what seemed like the hundredth argument for or against banishment, Jialin turned to Ken.

"You've heard all the details," Jialin said, her voice sounding so soft and reasonable after Takashi's latest impassioned argument, "so what is your decision?"

Ken, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but the council chamber, glanced up from the grain of the table's wood and gave each of them a somber look. When he was done trying to find whatever it was he was looking for in their faces, he sighed, pushed away from the table, and stood.

"I can't be the only one to decide a man's fate. It's not right. This was one of the tasks for which the council was built. I think it's time that the council starts to learn to stand on its own." With that, Ken left.

Jianliang wasn't aware that he had been holding his breath until he finally felt the need to breathe again. When he exhaled, he let out a small, inaudible curse. Ken was committing political suicide.

.*.

When morning came to Osaba, Daisuke was the first in the room to wake up. Not that he slept well the night before, anyway, despite the protests of his muscles. Thoughts of people keeping things from him kept nagging at him in the small hours of the morning. It really wasn't helping that Lianjie snored. The "rooms," so to speak, was just a single teachers' lounge divided into rooms by cubicle partitions and he had the misfortune of sleeping right next to Lianjie with only a panel between them. Each "room" had a couch or mattress just barely large enough for one person, and his mattress smelled funny and had a depression in the middle that was hell on his spine. For the briefest moment he longed for his bunk at Iwakuni, and brushed the sentiment away with the reminder that he'd slept in worse. Iwakuni had spoiled him.

Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, Daisuke left the guest room and a sleeping V-mon for the bathroom to do his business. Upon passing the age-speckled mirror, his eyes caught on his reflection and he paused. He needed a shave and a better night's sleep, and when did he get old enough to need to shave? The years had been a blur and he had no way to account for most of it. Not that it particularly mattered. There wasn't all that much he could do about the forces that shaped his life except to work with what he could.

Daisuke went through his morning ablutions with no thought for the present. He wondered about what he should do regarding Takeru and Jun. Though he knew he couldn't control Jun and dictate where she went, not that he even wanted to, it was still distressing that she simply barged into dangerous territory without at least warning him. They were the only family they had. Surely that was important, right? And it really wasn't fair of Takeru to keep her whereabouts from him.

With a grunt at the subject, he dismissed it the moment he stepped out onto the grounds to do his practice katas. At some point, V-mon joined in and mirrored his movements, and Daisuke took a little time to help his new partner with his stances. It was a good enough distraction and passed the time, and the sun was above the horizon by the time he finished. When he returned to the room, everyone was up and mysteriously absent, and Ruki-

Ruki was standing closer to Takeru than he'd have thought either of them would tolerate. At least they both looked awkward and uncomfortable around each other. As any questions he may have asked were nebulous at best, he shrugged it off and barged in. "So, anyone wanna let me in on today's agenda?"

Takeru looked completely blank, which was really weird. Ruki threw him a disgusted look that really didn't seem to have her usual rancor behind it. Her gaze returned to Daisuke and resumed its usual chill. "I'll be cleaning up here. I'm guessing you all want to go back home and tell your boss how well it went."

Honestly, he didn't know what was with Ruki half the time, but they helped get her back in power! "A 'thanks' might be nice at some point."

"I didn't really need you barging in on my operation." Ruki's voice was practically ice-cold, and he was so very tempted to do something childish. "We would have done well enough without you."

That's it. Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you were doing _so well_ when I came in to save your ass."

Somehow or another, that got a response out of Takeru. The taller man scrubbed his face with a palm the moment he noticed where this conversation looked to be going. "Let's table this for later. Ruki, do you need us for anything?"

Ruki's disgust at Daisuke's childishness shifted into something more neutral when she looked at Takeru. "Meet me at the deployment area when you want to leave. I have something for you." With that, she left the room. Takeru said nothing when he noticed Daisuke's bewildered look and turned to pack up. Daisuke threw up his hands, decided he really didn't want to know what was going on, and went to pack with V-mon trailing him. Takeru wouldn't tell him anyway, which was half the problem.

At some point in the middle of his packing, Lianjie turned up with his gazimon in tow, looking more like subdued than a Li had any right to be. That his sister wasn't with Lianjie made him worry, just a bit.

"Say, where's Jun," he asked when Lianjie settled down to pack. The eldest Li blinked and looked up from his duffle bag, then looked at his gazimon. The gazimon blinked up at Daisuke.

"Nobody told you, did they?"

Perhaps the horrid sleeping arrangements had been a warning that today was going to be a bad day. It was starting to feel like it. "Told me what?"

Lianjie sighed, set his duffle bag on the makeshift bed, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "The reason Jun came back here."

Though Daisuke was curious, part of him wasn't so sure he wanted to know. He loved his sister and wanted to protect her, but at the same time, he didn't really need to know her motives. However, before he could say anything, V-mon stepped up and asked for clarification. He was answered before Daisuke could think to derail the conversation.

"She and Kai were engaged," Lianjie said. "Their happiness was very infectious."

Yeah, that was all Daisuke really needed to know about his sister and her grand romance. She was his _sister_ , for the gods' sake! "Thanks, I get it. Listen, I need to go meet someone down in deployment."

V-mon looked up at him, mouth opening as if to ask for something, then the little dragon shook his head and followed Daisuke out the door. Daisuke made his way to the deployment area without really thinking about where he was going or why he should have been a little more careful in the first place, and settled onto a bench to the side. "Deployment area" was really rather generous when comparing the place to Iwakuni's: it was a small garage meant to hold a handful of groundskeeping vehicles. It was uncomfortably familiar, and he suspected he'd been here before. Oh, right. The night Kai died.

With a scowl at the memory, Daisuke looked over the dark stains in the concrete floors. How much of it was blood and how much was motor oil and grease? He really couldn't tell and he didn't want to know. Knowing too much was for masochists.

At some point, Jun joined him and Penmon dragged V-mon away to another part of the garage. She kept staring at the stains in the floors, probably wondering the same things he had been. They weren't good for this kind of thing, but he still covered her hand with his, trying to be as comforting as he could be. Being kind and sensitive wasn't really his strong point.

"Lianjie said you were here," she murmured softly. "I read Jianliang's report about that night, but I didn't think…"

His hand squeezed hers, and he hoped he'd survive the day without wanting to deck someone. "Sorry. I didn't think you'd follow me."

Jun was silent for the moment, and when Daisuke looked up, he noticed her eyes were bright and lips thin in the effort to be reassuring. "Kai and I were close. You couldn't have known."

"And _when_ were you going to tell me you and Kai were dating," Daisuke groused dourly, attempts at sensitivity dissipating for the moment. He didn't like Takeru keeping secrets, but it was worse somehow when his own sister was doing it.

Jun rolled her eyes at him, which he thought wasn't fair. He _never_ kept secrets from her. "I'm sorry, but it never came up. You know how busy it gets there."

"I don't suppose there's anything else you're not telling me?"

His sister watched him thoughtfully, and for a moment he feared she wasn't going to say anything at all. Then she sighed. "We have a little girl. Fukami. Sent her away to the Keepers so she'll be safe and have the best education this world can offer."

He had nothing to say. How could he? Jun didn't look like she was kidding, and that was one hell of a secret to keep under wraps. All he could utter was, "What?"

"The Lighthouse Keepers. Why do you think Ken insists on keeping Ruki in power? Why do you think there are so few children at the base? I hate her guts, but she keeps them and our kids protected."

Daisuke rather felt his brain was going to overload from the shock of too many big secrets at one time. "And they're who now?"

Jun shook her head and looked away. "That's Ken's territory. Nag him about it."

Though he grumbled at the thought of even more secrets, Daisuke didn't pursue the subject. He'll just have to save it for when he was in Ken's presence again.

It was several minutes later when everyone else got there. Jun glared daggers at Ruki, who haughtily ignored them and god Daisuke hated her. That Takeru followed close behind nearly made his eyebrows retreat to his hairline. While he had slept a bit, he was fairly sure that Takeru had never entered the room Daisuke had to share with Lianjie, Rei, Warren, and the digimon. He quickly connected that to the awkwardness he saw between Takeru and Ruki and oh, _ew_. And here he thought Takeru had _standards_. The bridge of his nose crinkled at the thought, but he said nothing. They were already talking and clearly not to him or Jun. Rather than risk decking Ruki, Jun got up and stalked to the rover.

Ruki stopped just a meter away from him to turn to Takeru and pull out a handful of sheets. "A small repayment," she said, grudgingly, and Daisuke tried to squint at them. They looked crinkled and faded, with new ink clearly painted over old. "I had some of my people look into your background."

Takeru said nothing as he stuffed the sheets into his overcoat's pocket. Then, thinking better of it, he mumbled a quick thanks as Lianjie, Rei, and Gazimon entered with the gear. It was packed into Jun s captured rover with long-practiced efficiency. Someone Daisuke didn't recognize barged in, all dust and grime and chewing on the stem of an empty opium pipe as he carried an ugly-looking sledgehammer over his shoulder, and watched the proceedings. Ruki took him aside to mutter about something, which no amount of straining helped Daisuke to hear. Before he could really catch anything, he heard Jun shout some insult and kick a hubcap.

Thankful for the excuse to get away and do something, Daisuke trotted over to the group Jun s source of frustration became more apparent once he noticed the short granite pegs embedded seamlessly in the concrete around the rover. The dirty dun-and-black coloring of the pegs made them harder to pick out from the concrete at a distance, especially with the poor lighting.

"Teppei," Ruki drawled. She was probably enjoying making their lives difficult. "Do something about your rocks, would you?"

Teppei grunted as he sauntered over, swinging the sledgehammer from his shoulder as one would a sword in those old movies of cocky samurai and knights. As the man passed Daisuke, he couldn't help but notice the unusual glasses. The black frames had that distinctive gleam of glass, and light passed through them when Teppei crossed one of the electric bulbs. Teppei stopped in front of one of the posts, settled into a golfer's stance that aligned with the row of posts in front of the rover, and swung his sledgehammer as if it was as light as a golf club. The first post toppled into the next and collapsed in a pile of feldspar, quartz, and mica sand. The following post did the same after it hit the next, and so on until the entire line was a pile of sand. After witnessing Junpei and Chiaki use their abilities for more mundane things, this kind of showing off failed to leave much of an impression on Daisuke. It was too much, and he was sorely pressed to keep from grunting in disgust.

Not that anyone noticed him. Lianji, Warren, and Rei took Teppei aside to praise him and ask to be shown more, which apparently appealed to Teppei's ego. Rather than join them, Daisuke went to Takeru's side. Taking that as a cue, Ruki muttered something to Takeru and went to lean against a wall and flip through a small book she carried in a pocket.

"So what's that," Daisuke asked, gesturing vaguely at the sheaf of papers Ruki had given Takeru. His traveling companion blinked at the question and took them out to look more closely at them.

The neutral expression Takeru had when he didn't want to talk changed to a small smile as he showed the top sheet to Daisuke. At one time, they had been yellowed receipts from stores. There was white painted over the back of the receipts and the words "The Teenage Wolves: Live At Suntory Hall" painted in thin black brushstrokes with the ticket number and official band stamp of a wolf in red along the bottom. "I'd forgotten that it was touring season."

Jun apparently saw the flash of papers and wandered over to snatch them up. Her face was neutral at first, then she whipped around to glower at Ruki, who didn't try hard enough to look innocent. This only served to infuriate Jun, who stormed over to bite Ruki's head off.

"How dare you think you can make up for what you did with tickets?" Jun snapped. "What makes you think I can forgive you?"

Ruki snorted in disgust. "Who said I was asking for forgiveness? It's done. I make no apologies for doing what I have to."

While Daisuke would have been quite happy to let his sister lay into Ruki, Takeru stepped in between them, grabbed the tickets, and faced Ruki. "Thank you for the excuse to see my brother again. I appreciate it."

Somewhat mollified, Ruki stepped down and smirked. Her voice lowered, she ignored Jun entirely to respond to Takeru. "Have fun for me, will you?"

That said, Ruki allowed them to leave. That she hadn't set spies on them the moment Jun's rover pulled out of the garage with everyone piled in was a minor miracle.

.*.

Sora wanted to be in her quarters working on her origami or other papercraft, or talking to Rumiko, or trying her hand again at stitching together the dress design Rumiko liked best, or playing a little soccer with Piyomon. She wanted to do anything but that which she'd spend the past few hours doing: arguing Nakabayashi's case to a council that was ready to fry him. Pleas for them to acknowledge the mistake were frequently sabotaged by Takashi, and his attacks were backed by Iori. The neutral faction was hardly a help; they waited patiently as one side argued with the other, and she was tiring quickly of arguing in circles with people who were too scared of the world outside to allow justice to prevail.

When the call finally came from the PV team and alerted them to the fact that the PG team was secured and Ruki reinstated, Sora couldn't help but relax a little. It helped her argument, just a bit, but it wasn't quite enough. There was the issue of Iria which had to be resolved, and it felt like she would lose more ground the further this went on. No wonder Ken had left — now it was getting ridiculous.

When things finally looked as if they were all winding down from exhaustion, Jialin stood to address the council. Though Sora hadn't known her from before she came, Jialin always seemed to be the watchful type. The arguments stilled as she addressed the council. "We have discussed this long enough. It is time to vote. Depending on how the first vote goes, we will have a series of sessions. As usual, your tokens will be counted as anonymous by an outside party. Elecmon has volunteered for today." Jialin, having no digimon partner of her own, often employed the aid of an elecmon from the population living in the old weapons repository. While the digimon population was supposed to have a say in the proceedings of the base, they seldom cared enough to follow human politics. That Elecmon volunteered so often was more an attestation of his desire to understand humans. "If there are no further actions required, we may begin."

First was the vote to exile Nakabayashi. Sora tossed her black marble in with the others, against the motion, and waited for the count. The motion was denied, barely, with five-to-four against. The vote moved on to what to do with him afterwards, and it was a close vote in favor of his being stripped of his job and given another that did not allow him access to the communications systems and computers. That too she had voted against, but no matter. Finally, the issue of Iria. This was the hardest argument she had — Nakabayashi would be punished enough, so why make it worse by cutting his girlfriend out of his life? Another close vote, but this one in her favor — Iria would be brought in. That Jianliang had backed her in the argument was surprising, as he often kept his thoughts to himself when it came to politics, but he supported her with the fact that it would be a security risk if they let either one of them free at this point in time. Better to keep them close enough to keep an eye on. All very rational, of course.

When this particular torture was over, Sora got up to leave for the Digimon Room to pick up Piyomon. She was in sore need of someone to be alone with who wasn't going to argue with her.

.*.

Two weeks later, after they had taken Iria to the base and Rei and Warren left for Niigata, Takeru and Daisuke found themselves in an unusual situation: they had vacation time to use and permission to take the rover with them if they chose. From Naomi's reaction and subsequent lecture about taking care of her precious vehicles, the kind of vacation they had in mind wasn't taken as often as Takeru expected. Maybe he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was — after all, a majority of the agents were from within the base itself and preferred to rest when they weren't on the road. However, being cooped up suited neither of them, and he was looking forward to going to the concert and seeing his brother again. They had offered the rest of the tickets to others in their group, but Ken couldn't leave the base, Jun refused to take anything from Ruki, Rei begged off for reasons only Daisuke seemed to know, Warren accepted a couple for himself and his wife, and Lianjie had no interest in the group. They'd left the rest of the tickets to circulate within the base and maybe someone would pick one up, but Daisuke didn't expect them to take any interest in the world outside.

Now they took in their first real view of Tokyo years after the pandemic. With no one to maintain the buildings and roads after major earthquakes and typhoons, much of the city had fallen into ruins. Some of the roads could still be used, and he had taken the rover as far into the metropolis as he could before leaving it amidst a bunch of abandoned cars within an old parking garage. Precautions were taken, of course: Takeru had the keys and maps, both of them carried the gas in airtight canteens, the air was let out of the tires and Daisuke had the pump. After that, it wasn't hard to find one of the special event caravans from various launching points in the more accessible parts of Tokyo's outer wards to the general area of the buildings surrounding Suntory Hall.

They sat together with their digimon in the little hand-made horse-drawn carriage operated by a two-member team that didn't look older than twelve. Takeru never quite got used to the fact that there were people younger than him with enough maturity to run a business like this. A bit of conversation with the more talkative of the two revealed that the girl had phenomenal intelligence — she'd memorized the entire city's layout and answered every question he had about the state of any of Tokyo's wards, and knew her roadways and back alleys intimately. Her friend was introduced as being good with plants, but the boy didn't say much one way or the other. So, he resumed telling the girl about the time before her birth and Daisuke often joined in, both explaining about most of the buildings they passed. Patamon answered V-mon's questions about the city and they often shared a laugh over human eccentricity.

When they finally reached the intersection between Roppongi-dori and a side street that would lead to the concert hall, they disembarked and paid the kids in boiled eggs, dried kelp and salmon, and packets of rice. The food was accepted gratefully and the girl pointed out their destination and route. "The highway we left is Roppongi-dori," she began, pointing out the eight-lane highway behind her, which would have been deadly to cross once upon a time. "Just follow this street to Suntory Hall." She pointed out the street that went from Roppongi-dori to split into a T-shaped intersection just past Ana International Hotel. "Go right at the T and keep going. You'll notice there's a small parking area and it turns into a bent elbow shape, but keep going until you see a second-story foot-traffic bridge, and the building to your right is the hall. If you hit the Ark Hills Executive Tower, you've gone too far. Anyone who plans to stay overnight will probably take up the hotel, and the Asahi Clan is going to provide food and water there for trade. Concert starts in the evening, and most of the carriages will be here when it ends to pick you up. 'Cause you're so generous, I'll tell you this: the band camps out in the Spanish Embassy just down the street from the Hall. They don't usually let anyone see them before the show, though. Any questions?"

Takeru smiled back, trying hard to ignore Patamon's excited kneading of his scalp. "We're friends of the band."

"That's what they all say," the girl replied with a grin. "Good luck." The threadbare carriage took off the moment they disembarked and returned to the kids' quest for other tourists to guide to the concert.

It took longer than they expected to reach the embassy. For one thing, the gate was on the other side of the block, so they had to go around and climb over a fallen tree. Then there was the fact that the walkways and courtyards had been lush with vegetation even before the end of the adult world. With no one to control it, greenery invaded everything it could. More than once had they stepped over a fallen branch, and formerly manicured decorative shrubbery branched out into the sidewalks. A few saplings started to grow in cracks in the street and began forcing the cracks wider. Takeru remembered this street — Suntory Hall was one of the most elite concert halls in Japan, and it had been Yamato's dream to play there at least once. Their father had driven them by one weekend on the way to Ark Garden for Hanami and pointed it out to Yamato, but Takeru couldn't remember how soon after the divorce it had been.

He paused when the gate to the embassy grounds came into view, and Patamon launched off his head to fly over the gate and warn his brother of their arrival. Given Patamon's normal flying speed, he figured he had enough time for this. Daisuke, who was lagging behind to keep V-mon from exerting himself too much, narrowly avoided walking into him. "Hey, Daisuke?"

"Yeah?"

Over the past couple of weeks, Takeru noticed something odd. It started back in Osaba and though Daisuke tried to be discreet, he wasn't very good at it. "Before we meet up with my brother, is there any weirdness you want to address?"

Daisuke eyes didn't quite meet his as he shifted his pack's strap to a more secure position over his shoulder. "Eh…" When Daisuke saw Takeru's raised eyebrow, he sighed. "Not very good at hiding it, am I?"

Despite himself, the beginnings of a smile creased in the skin at the corners of his eyes. "Not really, no."

Daisuke gave one of those grunts Takeru was starting to peg as self-deprecating. It was a moment before he answered. "It's just… You know, I'm okay with most anything? You wanna be gay or straight or bi or whatever, fine. No big deal. Don't care." Both of Takeru's eyebrows rose at this. Of all the things he expected, it certainly wasn't this. "But… Ruki? Really? I mean, I know she's hot and all, but… dude. _Ruki_. Her personality doesn't just peel paint, it rips the spines out of lesser men Mortal Kombat-style and feasts on their hearts."

The budding smile disappeared and Takeru was completely, utterly confused. Where on earth…? He paused in consideration and linked Daisuke's question with the earlier part concerning his orientation. He didn't know about Daisuke, but he certainly had no time for that kind of thing, not with his quest still underway. "You think me and Ruki…?" V-mon caught on quicker than both of them did and clasped his hands over his mouth to prevent any snickering. Takeru's eyes widened in surprise when Daisuke only answered with a slump of his shoulders. "How? I didn't even have time alone with her. You know, you were there!"

"Except for that one night when you never slept in the guest room!"

Takeru blinked blankly and tried to remember what Daisuke was talking about. There was that one night when they… Oh! He scrubbed his face with a palm. Why hadn't he noticed before how odd that would look to someone else? "Ugh. God, Daisuke. I get where you're coming from, but Ruki never encountered a digimon before. I went back after you guys started passing out to sit with her for a while. Talked to her about what happens when there's a partner bond and what she can expect. Then I crashed on that couch in her office. Patamon and Renamon were with us the entire time."

The look of relief on Daisuke's face was unmistakable, and he gave that self-deprecating half-smile of his. "Well, good. I was starting to seriously worry about your taste in women."

Takeru considered that for a moment. He'd been so preoccupied with his quest that he didn't have time for anyone else in his life. Not like that. And even if he did… "Ruki's not that bad."

"Maybe not," Daisuke answered with a halfhearted shrug. He was about to continue when the pedestrian side gate creaked open and Kouji sauntered out with one hand stuffed in a pocket of his tattered jeans. The brown-striped navy blue kerchief Kouji once wore on his head as a child was now faded and frayed with age, and used instead to keep his long hair in a queue down his back. At one time, he and his brother might have been completely impossible to tell apart, but now there was a very clear difference established by their livelihoods. Kouichi had well-defined muscle mass due to his role as head of Niigata's military might, while Kouji was lean and wiry. And that smirk was unique to Kouji.

"About time you dropped by," Kouji began, and Takeru was sure that he was trying to get a rise out of him. Despite Kouji and Yamato having similar personalities, he and Kouji never really warmed to each other. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten all about us."

"Been busy," Takeru responded in an even voice. "Besides, I can't even play a mukkuri. I'm useless to you."

Kouji gave a casual half-shrug and waved them past the gate before wrapping chains around the terminal posts and setting the padlock.

Before the end of the adult world, the compound had its mid-height barrier walls for privacy and a respectable amount of vegetation acting as a screen against unwanted eyes. Now the vegetation engulfed the fence and grew over the walls, leaving a mess more impenetrable to the eye than the original architect had planned. The big draft horses that drew the band's covered supplies wagon and the re-purposed ambassadorial carriage loitered around the grounds, while their cargo was parked behind the building. Covered rain barrels, one of the few signs that the place was inhabited regularly, were placed at each corner of the perimeter wall. The building itself was nothing like the monstrosity that was the American embassy. It was smaller by far, with a red tile roof and white plastered walls accented at places with faded teal shutters and doors. Now the plaster cracked in places and was stained by water, and the teal paint flaked in places, peeled, and revealed graying wood underneath. It would have been lovely back in the day.

Whatever the embassy was furnished with in the past was mostly gone now. What Takeru guessed was the reception area and foyer was now a living room of sorts, with the reception desk long gone and a sofa in its place that did little to hide the desk's remaining footprint. The fold-able music stands the band used were unfolded and placed haphazardly beside folded chairs that had been shoved up against each wall.

"Did the band grow," Daisuke asked as they were escorted up the stairs, lagging behind just slightly so that V-mon could keep up. The iron rail was still secure, but its teal paint cracked easily under their hands. Takeru thought the same thing , for there were more chairs than the five-member band required.

"Collaborative effort," Kouji said, not bothering to look back at them. "We have a few guests playing with us." Once they arrived at the second story, Kouji gestured towards the east wing. "First room, left-hand side. Get Yamato to show you around. I have to go see to the lighting." And with that, Kouji turned and trotted down the stairs.

"Friendly guy," V-mon muttered once Kouji was out the door, his face slightly sour. Up until then, he had remained quiet and turned his head to look at every little thing. Takeru guessed that he still wasn't used to the world outside of Iwakuni.

"He's always like that before a concert." Get a few beers into the older man, though, and Kouji was a bit less gruff. Takeru strode to the door the band's bassist indicated and knocked. When he heard his brother, he went ahead and opened the door.

Yamato didn't always look like someone out of a visual kei band. Initially his outfit choices had been low-key, positively sedate. But then they fell in with a commune of artists and had discussions about things that had made his head spin. Subculture, counterculture, imagery of urban tribe affiliations, symbolism of self-presentation, argot, _Dialectic of Enlightenment_ , _identitas_ , identity formation strategy, self-schema, norms, mores… None of which he had understood as a child, and he was sure the artists didn't entirely understand either. But Yamato took a shine to the phenomenal amount of navel-gazing the group did and incorporated their theories into his stage identity. The stage identity was a mask, but sometimes Takeru wondered if there wasn't something else going on that had some pseudo-intellectual basis. Yamato channeling some private aspect of himself that he wasn't comfortable sharing normally , or letting his id run amuck, or whatever. The dark blue satin pants probably had a previous life as a gown; the base shirt might have been a cream-toned poet shirt with sharp electric green patterns painted on it and metallic sequins serving as accents. A black leather trenchcoat that might have belonged to Gackt was hanging on a wall, and Yamato's blue-streaked hair had gotten almost as long as Yoshiki's, back in the early band days.

For all that Takeru would tease him about his choice of stage costumes, it didn't really matter to Takeru what his brother chose to wore. Yamato was still himself under all the visual kei get-up, and was quick to grin and hug him tight. His arms went up around his brother automatically, and suddenly he was six years old again with his face buried in Yamato's shoulder. "Missed you," Yamato murmured, and Takeru nodded. They remained like that until Yamato placed his hands on Takeru's shoulders and pulled away just enough to get a good look at him.

"You've finally put on weight," Yamato teased with a twinkle in his eyes. "Last I saw you, you were so skinny that I was sure I'd have to ask Jou to check you for parasites."

Takeru grimaced. Living as he did, parasites were an unfortunate risk of the road. The babesiosis he came down with in the third year after the death of the old world had resolved itself and he had been mostly asymptomatic, but the giardiasis he got when he was fifteen left him with lactose intolerance and Jou gave him the last of his albendazole to treat it. Afterwards, he had been lectured about eating his food fully cooked; save for the occasional run-in with flea-bearing animals, he had since been free of parasites. Still, eating was seldom good when game was scarce and food plants weren't available and he had been scrawny from poor nutrition when he left. With Iwakuni's provisions, and his game trade before then, he was a lot healthier than he had been. "The medics say I'm clear."

Yamato opened his mouth, probably to ask about medics, and caught view of Daisuke looking awkward behind him. V-mon had evidently gone straight for Gabumon and Patamon and was quick in making a new friend. "That's Daisuke," Takeru began. "A friend I've been traveling with lately." With that, he began updating his brother on his life.

.*.

V-mon had been patient as the humans talked, and Gabumon and Patamon were good enough company to make the time seem to fly by. By the time the evening rolled around, he was nearly bouncing with anticipation. He d never been to a concert before, and Gabumon made them sound magical. Though he wasn t very fond of being carried, he allowed Daisuke to pick him up and set him on his shoulders on the way to the concert hall, and V-mon came to enjoy the vantage point. He could see the tops of heads rather than a forest of legs, and he waved and grinned at people who stared at him.

There was a little time before the concert started, and he and Patamon murmured to each other from atop their partner s heads. Light seemed to come in from the ceiling, but there was no opening and no bulb. Instead, there were mirrors everywhere, and the light that existed came from a battery-powered LED lamp and was bounced around and around until it seemed to come from everywhere. And somehow it seemed more powerful than the source. It was cool inside, too. Much more than it should be with so many bodies pressed together, and he had caught mention of someone named Tomoki who seemed responsible for that. Perhaps Tomoki was one of those people who felt like they were digimon, but weren't. Like that Teppei, or Kouji and Kouichi, or several other people he had run across during their travels. He could barely remember the Digital World, but he was sure he'd remember something as unique as humans with digimon powers. Just how many were there?

The light went out just then, and Patamon rustled his wings excitedly beside him. "It's starting," Patamon whispered, and he was sure Patamon was kneading Takeru's jeans. Then there was a spotlight which seemed to come from nowhere, and a woman in a yellow sun dress stepped out with a small instrument in one hand and a stick in another. "A violin," Patamon muttered helpfully to him. She bowed deeply, then placed the wide end of the violin under her chin and the bow on the strings. A chill went down his spine as the music began; the violin at first, then a female chorus joined in. It was slow, mournful, but so beautiful that he thought he was going to cry. A deep-voiced drum and a guitar followed later, and the tone shifted to one of cautious hope, and the light broadened to encompass the chorus and supporting instruments, and he recognized Yamato and Kouji to the side with the other instruments. The music spiraled and instruments interwove in patterns that evoked emotions V-mon never thought could be so intense. By the end of it, the music swelled to a joyous crescendo and finished off with the same violinist that started it. A hush fell over the hall, and then the crowd erupted with applause.

Yamato stepped forth to take the violinist's left hand and they bowed. He introduced her as Rieko, the female choir as coming from Aomori and Hokkaido, a couple of shamisen players from the Ryukyu Kingdom, a couple of proud Ainu men with tonkoris, and V-mon missed whomever was on the taiko because raucous cheers burst out when a little girl pounced front and center and twirled her drumsticks. Yamato looked straight at the mezzanine, where their group was sitting, and looked almost apologetic as he segued into a teaser about having a big announcement planned for the next big concert. Patamon fluttered briefly in alarm as there was a rustle of cloth, and V-mon was sure he could hear teeth grinding. Yamato had promised to announce what Takeru had told him about the upcoming war, and it sounded like Yamato was bailing out. He probably didn't feel like it was the right time — the audience was genuinely happy, and such news didn't belong here. Daisuke shifted, and V-mon carefully kept balance as his partner leaned over to whisper reassurance to Takeru. "Can't you see he's trying to rile them up so that more people come to the next concert for this big announcement?"

Takeru kept still after that, but V-mon was sure he'd confront his brother after the concert. He sighed; humans were much too complicated.

.*.

At four in the morning, the base was quiet and still, perfect for slipping around unnoticed. He easily sneaked past tired guards, using his knowledge of their patrolling patterns to his own advantage. The few he encountered simply nodded and went on their way. There were benefits to status. He donned gloves, slipped into the communications room, locked it behind him, and disabled the redundancy backup systems. No one knew them like he did.

Moments after he connected to one of the few satellites that still worked, he began. "Atropos, this is Clotho."

"Atropos here," said a voice whose owner he hadn't seen in years. "Who are you?"

They were always so careful to use symbols and allegories just in case anyone eavesdropped, though he knew his lair was secure. "I am a spider in the web. Why are you?"

"I cut the threads." There was a smirk in the voice; Atropos had gotten morbid over the years. "What is our purpose?"

"We weave the webs and are wholly responsible for the outcomes. Where is Lachesis?"

"Wandering in places that are not places, in times that are not times. Lachesis sends their regards. How?"

"We are the spiders in the web, brought together by our crimes. Liber scriptus proferetur…" _A book will be brought forth_ …

"In quo totum continetur…" _In which all will be written…_

"Unde mundus judicetur." _By which the world will be judged_. It was from Mozart's Requiem, he remembered. Somehow it felt like a fitting pass phrase. "Good to hear from you again, Atropos. What are your orders? Does Lachesis have any news?"

"Lachesis says that the Grail will soon arrive near Phoebe, and that the Serpentarius child will be brought to me once the bird flies from the cage. I must say, I never thought…"

"Clotho" recognized the pause and could picture the thin lips pressed into a line of discontent at the subject of the Serpentarius child. Best to jump ahead. "So things are going as planned?"

"As well as can be expected. The twice-lived has been prepared for the march of the white queen, should there be a need. And the quarry?"

"The dolphin left the strings of a paper doll to a game of stones." Sometimes he wondered if he was a little too obtuse, but Atropos was the sharpest person he'd ever known.

There was a sharp intake of breath, then a pause. He could imagine the glower. "The dolphin must hold the quarry."

"The dog will ensure the dolphin remains," he offered as reassurance. The dog always covered for the dolphin, and sometimes the dog was so tired of its task. "Send the sun my-"

"None loves the sun as much as the moon," Atropos chided lightly, and Clotho closed his eyes. Somehow he should have known he'd be teased like that. "But the sun will receive your regards."

"Until next time, then…"

"The mockingbird will continue to sing until something comes up. Stay well, Clotho."

Clotho thanked Atropos and closed the connection. He then cracked into the computer's software, made it look like nothing had happened, and cleaned up after himself so thoroughly that no one would ever know he was there. He nodded to the few guards he came across en route to his quarters, and slipped into bed. Somewhere in the dark was a stirring, and he could feel big brown eyes bore into his back. His name was called, and Clotho muttered his platitudes and reassurances and claimed to have needed to clear his head and work off extra energy. Sometimes he wondered if it was enough.


	15. One-Eyed Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unusual day in the lives of Ruki and Tomoki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to confess something: this was not the chapter I started out writing. However, I felt that the initial chapter was inappropriate and mostly filler, and I wanted to get into the actual plot because things actually happen in the next chapter! It'll be great and someone's gonna get hurt. So, here, have a little deviation from the norm. 
> 
> The title is from the adage, "In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king," as coined by Desiderius Erasmus. Other references: the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, Turkish and Japanese history, Norse mythology, and a line stolen from Yeats' poem "The Second Coming".

The concert ended late at night, and Yamato was sure no one minded. Despite Tomoki’s strange ability to drop temperatures to freezing and below, he was sore and sweating once the curtain went down and they’d finished the final encore. He knew Takeru would be upset at him for not announcing the impending war, but the concert theme was hope and solidarity. War could wait for next time.

Tomoki, a man who had become infamous for once starting a blizzard in a sweltering summer in Minato to protect his home from Raiders, wove between musicians with iced water and a tangible bubble of cold air. No one could explain why he was able to do what he did, but they were all grateful. Yamato took a glass and bade Tomoki to stay for a while.

“Great concert,” Tomoki said with that easy grin of his. He looked tired, but Yamato suspected it was due to maintaining a comfortable chill in the concert hall. The air around him was refreshingly cool, and Yamato muttered an apology as he inched close enough to be enveloped in the chill. It was just sharp enough to refresh him.

“I don’t think we would have had anyone stick around for the entire concert without you.” A small lie; Yamato was sure some fans were hardcore enough to stick around, but Tomoki made it comfortable. “Did Kouji pay you yet?”

Tomoki nodded, and he seemed unaware of the little drummer girl crowding up next to him and taking a glass from the tray. “Five bushels of rice at the library, as requested. And venison and fresh greens! You’re too generous.”

The library, Yamato had heard, was one of the few places left for anyone to learn academic subjects. As Tomoki had told it, his brother had locked him in the library during the burning of Shinjuku and he didn’t dare burn the books for warmth when the deadly winter after the Apocalypse settled in and killed anyone who wasn’t prepared. A white bear spirit had come to Tomoki and given him his powers on the coldest night of that winter, and the boy became immune to the bubble of cold air he walked in. Since then, Tomoki opened up the library for pilgrims looking to learn, and earned his food by teaching people how to read. However, food was always in short supply for those who chose to remain in the cities.

“Are you sure it’s safe there?” After all, Raiders owned the cities. Protection usually had to be bought from whatever Clan was dominant at the time. The only reason the Asahi Clan had allowed this concert at all was because they stood to gain from the attendees.

Tomoki’s grin became almost wolfish. “I’d like to see anyone try to break through three feet of ice and the crows. Hugin and Munin are vicious to strangers.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Yamato remembered being attacked by a murder of crows. They were too clever by half. But there were other topics at hand. “Think you can stick around for the after-party at the embassy?”

“You just want me for my air-conditioning,” Tomoki said with a teasing gleam in his eye. “I'll stick around for a little while, but then I need to go home.”

They remained in companionable silence for a while, and absently Yamato wondered how Tomoki remained out of the clutches of clans and Raiders. Before he could ask, however, Tomoki spoke again. “Say, how old is that drummer girl? She's really talented.”

The musician looked to Tomoki’s side, but she had apparently wandered off. “Six. Why?”

“We’ll talk about it at the embassy,” Tomoki said, his grin suddenly gone. When he was aware it had gone, the younger man wandered off to cool off someone else.

Yamato was left to himself and his thoughts, and he joined the others to pack up instruments for the short walk to the embassy. There was the issue of Takeru that he’d been avoiding. He loved his little brother, but Takeru could be so single-minded that it was easy for him to ignore any dangers in his periphery. Yamato should know, he often had the same problem. He had long since come to terms with Takeru’s quest to find their parents, and one nomad among many did not draw attention, but now Takeru had made himself a target by joining in with this Iwakuni while sabers were being rattled. As far as Yamato was concerned, their parents were dead and gone, and Takeru had no business chasing ghosts. And yet, when his brother mentioned meeting an older man who mentioned their mother…

Dare he hope that one of their parents survived? He had already grieved, and to find even one of them alive would be indescribable. Frankly, he had no idea how he would feel and he was sure he wouldn’t trust any of the hints and clues the way Takeru did. Which, he supposed, was why Takeru found any clues in the first place. He would have to think on it later, though. One of his bandmates slapped him on the shoulder, and he followed the crowd of musicians to the embassy. His little brother would be expecting an explanation, and he would use the walk to steel himself before then.

 

.*.

 

In the days since she was reinstated, Ruki had been busy. First, Akiyoshi's head was removed from its body the moment Takeru and his friends were gone, preserved in formaldehyde, and placed on a stake near the fence surrounding the school. Hirokazu routed out his followers and she felt generous enough to exile them rather than lop off any body parts. She had taken Renamon on a tour of both Osaba and the parts of old Hiroshima still in use, and hadn't been terribly surprised when Renamon admitted to being familiar with most of her paltry excuse of a queendom. Then she had to spend days going over Akiyoshi's books and figuring out where he had been bleeding her before he got the foolish idea to take her out. It had involved forcing herself to learn accounting, and by the end of each day she was sure her brains were dribbling out of her ears. And, when she was particularly bored, she asked Renamon about where she'd come from and how she got there.

Renamon's tale was of multiple worlds and destruction, and parallel worlds originating from a single moment in human history when the physical world of biochemical organisms touched upon and influenced worlds of data and electricity. The Digital Worlds might have existed in a nebulous form before the activation of the Atanasoff-Berry computer, but it took its forms from the human world and was shaped by human minds. The real world gave it sapience. Then a great evil had arisen and thrown together multiple timelines, and he was punished. After his power was used to stabilize the remaining Digital World, Renamon had been among the party escorting him to his second prison. Because she remembered the time before the merging of worlds, she stayed behind to find Ruki. It had been a surreal tale, but what else could account for those fragments of half-remembered dreams of people she'd never met? And who could make up such tales?

Ruki frowned at her figures again. Her mind was wandering when she should have been checking where Akiyoshi had cheated her, and she forced herself to focus again. It seemed to have started small — a bit of food here, maybe some scraps of clothes there — and Akiyoshi had become bolder as time went on. Whole shipments had gone missing and Ruki had always attributed it to Raiders. Shipments of bullets from the United States bases on Okinawa in the Ryukyu Kingdom, actual coffee from Vietnam via the Ryukyu traders, grains and hides and dried fish from Ainu traders, and so on. Things she would have paid her people with, which would have been traded with the townsfolk for services rendered, had been squirreled away to somewhere unknown. Nothing in Akiyoshi's books mentioned a holding place, so she made a note to herself to send out a scouting party and closed the books for now. It was getting harder to care this late at night.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be no rest for her tonight. Renamon, her silent sentinel, looked up at the door. Moments later came the sound of three pairs of feet on her newly cleaned hallway floors, and one of them even squeaked. She glowered at the approaching noise, but refrained from protesting when the small party entered without so much as a knock. Frankly, she didn't have the energy to be irate.

One wore a loose blue and orange shirt, which looked too dull and newly sewn to be from the old world, and looked as if a porcupine had died on his head. The other wore a conglomeration of white-painted armor and a red cape, and at this she was sorely pressed not to roll her eyes. This one carried several bags and looked a bit squirrely. The last was… a digimon, apparently. Some sort of orange dinosaur. The one with the porcupine hair spoke first. "Queen Ruki, I take it?"

She gave a brusque nod and leaned back in her chair. The bristly fur of the tiger skin that was draped over the back poked what bits of her were exposed. "Unless this is a doppelganger sitting at my desk. What brings you here at this hour?" And who the hell let them past the guards? She glanced at Renamon, who gave the slightest hint of a shrug.

"I'm Yagami Taichi. Hikari wanted me to escort the Grail here," Porcupine-hair said. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Hikari was a common enough name, but there was only one Yagami Hikari, and Ruki had little patience for priests and the garbage they peddled. The world was hard enough and no one needed false hopes fed to them.

Though Ruki did not know exactly what a grail was, she did remember bits and pieces of a few Indiana Jones movies. There had been something about immortality, she was sure. That or face-melting. She could do with something that melted faces. "Not looking for immortality. Find someone else." Being abrasive did have its benefits. Unfortunately, they didn't seem willing to move on, though Yagami did seem like he was trying and failing to rein in his annoyance at her attitude. That was always entertaining.

"Um. Hi? I'm Takato." The man looked to be her age, but there was an element of boyishness about him and a haunted look in his eyes that clashed so sharply against it. He gave her a slight smile that struck her as somehow familiar. "I'm here to seek sanctuary."

That stopped her short. No one was supposed to know that she granted sanctuary to anyone. She even stopped herself from thinking about old Hiroshima, just in case. Her people prowled the ruins to enforce the peace, and sometimes she'd find a gift on her doorstep as compensation for her protection. It was better that way, so that should she ever be pressed about it, she could honestly say that she knew nothing about them. But they gave her the books she needed, information, and things that should have died in the old world. Hikari could not possibly know about Sanctuary, which left her with one option, and he had certainly never helped her any.

Her glance flickered up to Renamon for the barest quarter of a second, and she folded her hands in front of her on the desk and feigned ignorance. "What makes you think I have any to offer?"

Yagami looked ready to argue, but Takato spoke again as quietly and calmly as he had before. "There are stories. Someone told me that you gave sanctuary to the old people that survived. That's why Osaba is so advanced compared to everywhere else."

She flashed a thin, humorless smirk. "Surely someone must have told you that my position isn't exactly secure. Or has the story of Akiyoshi's coup not gotten out yet? There's a nice reminder at the entrance gate."

Yagami grimaced in memory of the gruesome sight, and a smile ghosted across the Takato's face. "That's okay. I trust you."

"And why should I give sanctuary to someone I don't even know?" Now for the crux of the matter. She leaned forward and watched them carefully. "Who are you hiding from?"

The smile disappeared and Takato's eyes darted to the blinds, as if looking for some gap between the slats. "I talked too much. They're after me. After what I'm carrying. Doc will be so disappointed if—"

Yagami interrupted just then. "Look, he's important, okay. So much more than any of us. Will you take him or not?"

Her curiosity piqued at that, but she didn't press the issue of whomever was pursuing him. "Okay, fine. Hiding some big secrets?"

"Sort of," Takato began, looking rather uneasy with her line of questioning. "If you can call it that."

"Are these secrets about other places? Like, perhaps, Niigata?" It might have been too much to hope for, but she might as well ask. For the life of her, she could not see why this man was so important.

Flustered at the question, Takato hugged a laptop travel bag close to his chest. "Oh! No, no, I'm sorry. It's probably nothing you can use. Nothing anyone can use without the right kind of knowledge."

Yagami looked as if he wanted to start shouting at her, and she waved him off. He wasn't the one asking for sanctuary, so she considered him inconsequential. He was nothing more than his sister's errand boy, as far as Ruki was concerned. "Very well. Do you have any particularly useful skills?"

Takato brightened; clearly this was something he cared about. "I can draw! And paint, and-"

"And you can stop now." As far as Ruki was concerned, artists were very low on the social totem pole. Not for their skills, but because fine arts rarely fed anyone. "I'm sure they can find some use for you. Renamon, could you escort him and fetch the meddler on the way back? You two, you're not to follow them. Sanctuary isn't going to remain a secret if others see it."

Renamon stepped from the shadows, startling the two other humans in the room. She gave a brief bow. "Of course. If you will follow me?"

Takato went happily, dragging some bags while the laptop bag was slung over one shoulder. He was almost out the door when he turned and smiled back at them. It was a tired smile, but so relieved that he looked younger than he had before. "Thank you so much, Taichi! And Ruki!" With that, he hugged her so quickly that she didn't have time to react. By the time she did, he disappeared with Renamon into the darkened hallway.

Yagami frowned as Takato's footsteps faded away. "Will he be okay?"

"So long as he doesn't look back." She flipped through the accounts book, hoping he'd take the hint. "There's no looking back once you venture into the underworld." When neither Yagami nor his digimon budged, she sighed in exasperation. "Is there anything else?"

The look Yagami gave her was so serious that it made her wonder just what kind of minefield she had stepped into, and her irritation at them all faded. "Look, can you just be sure that Takato is safe here?"

When he did nothing but stare at her in wait for her answer, she had to ask about it. "He looks no different than any other weirdo. What's so important that your sister sent him to hide with ghosts?"

"He's going to save us all, if we can keep him alive long enough."

It was entirely too late for cloak and dagger games. She shut the book and stood to fold and drape her tiger skin over her shoulder. It had always topped her bed, but lately she took to draping it over her chair while she worked, too. A reminder that even when she was pressed into corners, she would always come out alive. A little blood-soaked, but what fight didn't end in with blood? "Why don't you go back to your sister and report that your mission is accomplished? It's getting too late to think."

Yagami gave a nod and finally began to move towards the door. The digimon paused, his overly large green eyes regarding her for a moment, and his voice had the same grating quality that Teppei's had. She wondered if he smoked as much as the glassmaster did, or if it was a natural property of his voice. "Thanks! It means a lot."

Rather than answer, she waved him off and settled into her couch for a little nap. Just long enough to be a little more awake when Renamon returned, that's all. Running a town's infrastructure and trying to make sure that it all ran smoothly was tiring work. Her head hit a silk pillow that some place in China still produced and she was asleep in seconds.

Ruki woke two hours later, not quite refreshed but less tired than she had been. With no sign of Renamon, she assumed that something had gone awry and grumbled as she carried her oil lantern with her and went to her bedroom to drop off her tiger skin. It had been the teacher's offices, once, and she had the tables and cubicles replaced with bedroom furniture. The faculty bathroom had several toilets removed and an old Western-style porcelain bathtub set in their places. Unfiltered water came from the rainwater storage tanks on the roof of the building, and drinking water from a handful of filtered and treated tanks that required much more in the way of maintenance. She had a small wood-burning stove to boil her water on, but she missed having hot water on tap so much that she was tempted to demand that the scientists tackle water heaters as their next project. There was still so much to do, however, that her personal comfort was at a fairly low priority to everything else. She took her washing bowl to the unfiltered water tap, where she filled it just enough to sink her face into the lukewarm water. Summer was coming and she had to get ready. Though geography favored the Seto Inland Sea and protected the region from the worst typhoons, the season did play havoc with trade.

And how she could think on any of this at such a ridiculous hour, she had no idea. The water helped wake her up just enough to have some wits about her when Renamon came back. But then, maybe she should visit the sanctuary. The ride would keep her awake long enough to interrogate the meddler. With that in mind, she walked to the garage, where she waved past the guards and picked up her bike. Bicycles were getting rarer these days as rubber wore down, parts broke, and brake lines snapped. Hers, thankfully, was still in good condition.

Though the moon was a waxing crescent and could offer little in the way of light, the stars were sufficient enough for her to see where she was going. She rode deep into old Hiroshima, past buildings rocked by earthquakes and over or around cracks and fallen branches in the road. With Osaba being as successful as it was, there was no need for anyone to be this deep in the city. She followed the Ota River on Gion-shindo for what she was sure were miles, until finally she reached the intersection with Jonan-dori and came to one of two bridges crossing the moat around Hiroshima castle.

It was a reconstruction, as most things in Hiroshima were after the bombing, though whoever rebuilt it made little effort to remain true to the original materials. Concrete and steel were stronger than wood and stone, though much less yielding to the stresses of earthquakes. The cracks would be more apparent in the daylight, but she could barely make out any details now. However, she was sure that someone was roaming the watch tower above the entrance gates.

Renamon appeared at her side barely a minute after she arrived, silent as a shadow and just as noticeable on a dark night. At this point, Ruki was rather proud that she no longer had the urge to jump out of her skin in response. "He did not want to come," Renamon said quietly, almost in an apologetic tone. "Dragging him out by force would not have been… prudent."

Ruki frowned at that, for as far as she was concerned, everyone was equally capable of being dragged by the ear. Or other body parts, maybe with fishhooks. She wanted to protest, but then there was a low creak of hinges badly in need of oil and the gate opened to let a man out. It was dark, and she'd never seen him before, but she knew who he was. After all, he left his mark on every player on the field of major politics. Supposedly he was behind the Rocky Country, Amaterasu, the Empire of the Sun, and several other major players, but she was dead sure that he was behind the Niigata Shogunate. There was simply too much about the rise of the Shogun that set off her suspicions.

"You sent him here, didn't you?" For all that she was speaking quietly, her words sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of a dead city at night. Even with the stars and faint moonlight, she could only barely make out his face.

"I had no choice," he responded, his voice so neutral that she found it aggravating. "They were closing in on him and he needs to live if we have any hope of surviving."

That was worse, somehow. There was a huge piece of the puzzle missing despite all her efforts to keep track of current events and she had no clue what it might be. Her patience was wearing thinner than usual. "Surviving what?"

"… I can't tell you yet. You're not ready—"

That was it. Her temper snapped. "Fuck that, Sunshine! None of us is ever ready for anything. We haven't been for fifteen years. If you don't—" Renamon's paw fell lightly on her shoulder in warning and she jerked away from it, fuming.

The Wanderer gave an aggrieved sigh, which he was completely not entitled to as far as she was concerned. "Trust me, you don't want to know. I don't even know for sure. All I can tell you is that something bad is happening, and if he's caught, none of us has a chance."

His words resonated with rumors she heard of strange things happening both north and south of her. Something was happening, and the rumors were so unclear as to be useless. Her annoyance leached out of her, leaving her tired and mildly irritated. "Do you delight in being a manipulative dick, or what?"

"It's a means to an end." She could hear a smirk in his voice and it set her on edge again.

"Ugh! If you're not going to be helpful, I'm going to bed." If they weren't going to come out, and if the Wanderer insisted on being unhelpful, she had no desire to stick around for dawn. She kicked her bike's stand out of the way, intending to go home.

"Ruki, wait. You're really going to leave after coming all this way?" He sounded surprised, which was ridiculous because who the hell did he think he was to know her well enough to expect anything? Being of a suspicious nature, she narrowed her eyes at him and waited.

It was late, and she was tired, and she had no time for this nonsense. "What the hell do you want? You've never gotten involved here, not like you did with Niigata and anywhere else you have your hands in. Why are you even here at all if you're not going to do a thing? Where do you get off thinking you're familiar enough with me that you can guess my moods?"

The Wanderer glanced at Renamon, who had remained silent and out of the way. "Didn't she tell you?"

"Multiple worlds and alternative histories," she said with a growl in her voice. "I don't care. What? Were you my ex or something?"

She could only barely make out the shock on his face, and then decided that snapping at him was worth it. Then, to her surprise, he laughed. "Oh, gods no. We just had a working relationship. You hated me, I aggravated you by breathing wrong, and the universe was in harmony."

"Seems not much changed, then." The acid had gone from her voice. She was much too tired for this. "Don't suppose you'd want to offer me whatever you offered the Shogun? For old times?" It might be worth a shot.

The Wanderer seemed to regard her for several long moments before speaking. "You've never been a target because I have too much respect for your abilities to get involved. Do you really want that to change?"

"I got deposed and nearly killed several times," she said with a healthy dose of disgust. "I think I can handle whatever comes."

"Keep this place safe, then. Like you have been." The Wanderer nodded at the closed gates, and she again wondered who they really were. "When the center cannot hold, this place must remain."

Then, as if to really get under her skin, he had the utter temerity to completely disappear on her. Ruki growled and chucked a bit of rock candy she had in her pocket at the space he had occupied and it sailed through empty air to clatter on the concrete. Frustrated, she stomped and settled against the wooden planks of the entrance gate. The roof over the gate would protect her if a drizzle broke out again, but she was sure she wasn't going to stick around that long. She would just wait and see if anyone came out, and…

And she woke up an hour later, her rear end aching from sitting on concrete for so long. Renamon was warm and soft next to her, and it seemed that the only reason she wasn't as uncomfortable as she would have been was because her head had been on Renamon's shoulder and padded by tufts of yellow fur, and her back supported by Renamon's arm. The sun was just barely peeking above the horizon, but the sky was already growing lighter. Orange-tinged clouds gradiated to purples the further they got from the rising sun. The gate began creaking again and she got up, brushed off, and tried to look presentable.

First out the gates was Yoshino, a survivor of the disease that killed so many. It left its mark in her legs, currently strapped to the wheelchair Yoshino used to get around. Something about surviving the disease had damaged her spinal cord. That Yoshino lived at all made Ruki wonder how many might have escaped the Army for a Pure Japan, back when they were still hunting down survivors instead of anyone they didn't think was Japanese. Accompanying her was the child that Ruki had seen every now and then upon the few times she'd had to deal with Yoshino. She remembered vaguely that the girl was Yoshino's apprentice, or some other sort of assistant. The wild brown hair and too-sharp eyes were nothing like Yoshino's, leading Ruki to assume that the girl's parents were elsewhere. What caught Ruki aback, however, was the presence of the third person. All words left her once again, and she was fixed in place as the woman stepped carefully around Yoshino and Fukami, a wooden cane resounding loudly against the ground with each step.

Some small part of Ruki thought that the foreign-looking shawl across the woman's shoulders was interesting, black with red roses and yellow decorative bits in some pattern that was distinctly not Japanese. There was a plain gold wedding ring on her left hand. The woman stopped in front of her and she tried not to look away. "He said you might be out here," the woman stated in a voice that hinted at a history of chain smoking, though there was no hint of yellow on the woman's fingers or lingering scent of tobacco on her clothes. And there was an accent somewhere in there, though Ruki couldn't place it. She forced herself to breathe, bow, and acknowledge the fact that this woman was at least in her early sixties, with a shock of white-and-brown hair pulled back tightly into a braid. A few strands of hair escaped the braid, and two thin locks dangled over the woman's forehead and softened a look that might have been more severe. The resemblance between the meddler and this woman was uncanny.

"Welcome to the Lighthouse," the woman stated. There was a glint of amusement in the sharp blue eyes, though she seemed polite enough not to let it reach her mouth. "You know Yoshino and Fukami, yes? I am Khynika Zakharova-Akiyama, and I apologize for my son. He does so enjoy his games. Why don't you come in?"

Her voice was strangled in her throat. She wanted to ask how the old woman was alive, how any of them escaped the Army, but she followed the trio onto the castle grounds. The gates were closed behind them by children, none of whom looked over fifteen, and she was grateful for Renamon's strength, for it seemed that her own had left her. People started coming out onto the grounds to see her. Children, the middle-aged, and the elderly. Her heart leapt to her throat and she scanned the growing crowd desperately for her mother. It was a long shot, but maybe…

"There's no one here named Makino," Yoshino said, her voice soft and sweetened with empathy. "If she was here, we would have told you long ago."

Ruki gave a terse nod. It seemed all she was capable of right now.

 

.*.

 

As it had for the past few years, the day started with one of his pet ravens cawing insistently in his ear. How she managed to get up to his couch with a disabled wing, Tomoki was never quite sure, but he was grateful for the fact that Munin liked him too much to peck his eyes out. Her companion, Hugin, was probably out hunting any lingering bugs that hadn't hidden fast enough. There was another insistent caw, and he shooed her away and grudgingly got out of bed. As he went through the usual morning ablutions and got dressed, the raven hop-fluttered away to track down her companion.

Tomoki stared blearily at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not that the toilets worked anymore, but these facilities still had their uses. There were those smudges under his eyes again — he'd been up for hours after the afterparty to prepare his material for today, because teaching does not come easily to one who was never formally trained for it. Simply washing his face never made it go away, and he emptied the bowl with a quick dump into a bucket for the rooftop garden. The water that he had piped in didn't come from any municipal source, but from a rain barrel with a poor man's excuse for a filtration system he set up on the roof. The blueprints had come from a book he only barely understood. Given that no one went up to the top story and he never talked about it, he considered his water system safe.

Once he was presentable, he pocketed a small frozen vial wrapped in foil and thin but effective insulating material and trotted up the stairs to check the other floors for intruders of any variety, making sure to lock up his private basement before he did so. The two basement floors were his home now, and anything that hadn't been serving as storage space ended up a part of a converted apartment. The keys he'd gotten from his brother, who had worked here before the end of the old world and shoved him in after Shibuya went up in flames and they had nowhere to go. His brother had died defending the place, and Tomoki couldn't even remember his face anymore. Not being able to remember his family bothered him, but what bothered him more were those dreams he had of being something else and having friends he never met in the real world. Up until he met Kouji and Takuya, he was sure they had just been dreams. Not that they remembered anything about a past life or strange dreams, but it was good to know that the people in those dreams existed in the real world.

As usual, the floors were clear. After his demonstration years ago, during which he had scared off vandals and looters by dropping temperatures in a thirty foot radius to below zero degrees Celcius on a hot summer day, people didn't dare try to break in. Harder than inflicting frostbite had been winning people back, because even he couldn't survive long on his own. He'd opened the library doors, let the locals peruse the stacks on the first three public floors, and for the use of the library, he was paid in the kinds of food he couldn't grow on the roof. Slowly, over time, he realized that many of the younger people had the same sort of problem that he started out with. They couldn't read, or could read only hiragana. Furigana could only get one so far, a hard lesson he learned when he tried to build his filtration system from guidebooks with kanji he could barely understand. He set out to learn more, and shared as he learned.

He finally reached the roof, where carrier pigeons cooed at him and the chickens clucked as they scratched around their wire pen. He went straight for the pigeons and selected the strongest, to which he tied his vial and a small identifier, and released it. Talking the girl into giving up a little blood had been harder than it needed to be, but he drew what they wanted and was practiced enough by now that she barely felt the needle and forgot the incident soon afterward.

They hadn't been clear about what they wanted, not when they enlisted him, but after a while he felt like he figured it out. The subjects were always the same: children born after the end of the old world to parents who survived the disease, some of which were smarter than they should have been. It was as if evolution had given the human race a boost up the ladder as a reward for surviving its extinction event. They were probably working on a vaccine, and far be it for Tomoki to decline. So he took stock of the exceptional children who came to his library, took a little blood, and sent it away to who knew where. The carrier pigeons were later returned with their thanks and a gift of appreciation. He knew better than to ask for anything more.

With that task out of the way, he fed the birds, collected eggs, and watered the garden. He returned downstairs soon after cleaning and boiling some eggs. He remembered, vaguely, that his brother loved oyakodon and set a couple aside once he was back in his basement. Preserving his food had never been difficult, not after the white bear came for him. It was still inside him, a silent presence that seemed to spend most of its time hibernating. Only in dreams did it speak to him, but its supernatural power to freeze was always at his beck and call.

He opened the doors roughly around mid-morning once his morning chores were done, and sat at general information counter with a book in hand. There had been a time when he had game systems to entertain him instead, but they had long since fallen into disuse and were lovingly stored in a small box in his basement. First he had waited for the return of power for the larger systems, then for batteries when the ones in his handheld systems ran out. Books were all he had now.

People started trickling in, including his assistant, who happily worked for the food he had to offer. There were never very many, but any visitors were welcome. Mostly they picked a book and sat to read. Sometimes they came in to escape the weather, and sometimes the struggling local community would use his tables for a feast. He expected a feast in a day or so — a large percentage of the food paid to the Teenage Wolves and associated musicians were paid in turn to the Asahi Clan for permission to play in their territory, and the Clan in turn brought the food to share with the rest of them. As exploitative as some of the Clans could be, there were always a few smart ones who knew that it would be better to cooperate with the community peacefully than rule with terror. Tomoki remembered very little of the old world, but the Asahi Clan's role in the surviving community didn't seem much different than a police force to him. They kept the peace and were paid in exchange.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Tomoki pulled out his materials in preparation for the noon class and sorted through them. He only had two classes a day, three days a week. The first class was at noon for regular folk, who were usually either kids or people who couldn't do manual labor. The second was during the evening, for kids whose parents were in the Clan. While he taught reading, writing, and basic arithmetic in both classes, crime was still an issue and the kids of the Clans were better protected once they went home. His class size was seldom consistent, and he usually took it easier when there weren't many people.

Upon noticing him shuffle through his papers, his assistant trotted up to him and offered to help. Good kid, eager to help out. Not one of the special ones, though. Tomoki smiled and turned over the bin of paintbrushes and ink pots, and a thin stack of sheets illustrating a brush stroke apiece for the day's kanji. "Why don't you set up the classroom?"

The boy took the materials and hurried off to the wing where he held his classes, handling the papers with far more care than Tomoki ever did. He then remembered that he'd have to scavenge for more paper soon; after years of teaching, the library's own supply of printer paper was approaching critically low levels. At least he was in Tokyo and there was no shortage of abandoned office buildings.

Shortly after his assistant returned to report that the sheets were up and then ran off to do patrols, two men and a couple of strange creatures came in. He watched the creatures warily — they weren't animals, but they did remind him of that strange lizard-like thing he saw at the Teenage Wolves' afterparty. The bear spirit inside him stirred in recognition, but remained mute. They were not a threat. Tomoki gave a cool smile and welcomed them into his library.

The taller one looked around; his eyes alight with a passion for reading that Tomoki had seen so often before. His pale skin stretched tight over lean, almost stringy muscle. This man wasn't a fighter. A hunter, perhaps; he had that look of someone who preferred to strike from afar. The other one, though, was more densely built. A man who might have brawled, but he didn't look like he enjoyed it. He smiled brightly at Tomoki. The creatures he couldn't hope to describe.

"Hi, we're looking for a few titles. Do you do check-outs?"

Tomoki politely refrained from sighing. They must be from out of town. Checked-out books were usually never returned, and he often spent his weekends dragging boxes from other libraries and book stores just to make sure he had duplicates. That some of them had escaped the fires at all was a minor miracle. "If there are more than two copies, yes. Otherwise, you'll have to copy what you need by hand. If you've no plans on returning the books, we'll discuss purchasing options depending on the availability of the books. The card catalogue is in the north wing and updated every weekend with a tally of duplicate books. Our plumbing hasn't worked in fifteen years and the restroom doors are locked, so please do that sort of business outside. No bags of any kind. If you need a locker, it will be provided. Mind the birds. Drinking water is provided on an at-need basis. No food or drink near the stacks. The basement, fourth floor, and fifth floor are off limits to preserve sensitive materials. Any questions?"

They nodded, though one of them looked a bit surprised at his list of rules. What, did they expect him to let everyone get away with everything? Nonetheless, one of them requested a couple of lockers. Tomoki dug through the bin under the counter for keys and turned them over. He pointed to the locker area, which was on the way to the City of Tokyo Information corner, and wrote down their names in his visitor's logbook. Which was getting full again. At least he had a few more in boxes in the lower basement. They left for the lockers and Hugin followed to watch. If there was any break in behaviors, the ravens would warn him.

His students began streaming in and heading for the Health and Medical Information corner, where he held his classes. Once his assistant turned up to man the desk, he followed them and welcomed the new faces. The new people were usually transients who were passing through and dropped by out of either curiosity or a desperate grasp at a shadow of their long-dead childhoods. For these he adjusted his teaching methods to mimic what he remembered, because while Tomoki's links to his past weren't very strong due to his age, he understood why older people would cling to memories of a better life.

Class started with a bow and introduction, and then he dived into the day's kanji radical and how to write it, its readings and various meanings, and its position in a complex kanji. Often he illustrated the radicals as an end result of a morphing from pictures representing their meanings. Makigamae would be illustrated as an upside-down box, which he used a prop box for. Nichi was a rectangular sun divided by a cloud. Yumi was a reflex bow ready to shoot. He found that using pictures and props to show where a radical derived from helped people remember them better. It was trickier for radicals that didn't translate so well to imagery, but practice helped a bit. It was just before the practice session that he took questions, then walked along the rows of tables to help people with their writing. The paintbrushes he'd scavenged from schools and supply shops, and the ink ranged from watercolor tablets to ground-up charcoal powder mixed with water. Then, once the majority of the class was comfortable with their practice sheets, he explained how radicals were used in the development of hiragana and used illustrations. For the more advanced students, he wrote up short example kanji in sentences and encouraged them to practice reading. By the end of the hour, most of the students left, happy with their progress and with their practice sheets in hand. The stragglers continued practicing, or else had questions about his examples. He had patience enough for all of them, but he encouraged them to study together. Tomoki found that some people responded best to learning on their own, and others to learning in a group.

By the time he was allowed to return to work, there was a small queue lined up at his desk. He gestured for Hugin to join him, and the bird fluttered from her perch on a bookshelf to his shoulder as he settled down to check out books. Hugin alerted him whenever someone tried to sneak out with a book without going to him first, though most people didn't bother. She nipped his ear affectionately and watched the line. He processed the regulars quickly; the regulars were usually trustworthy and he knew where they lived. Their selections were common books, mostly fiction or how-to guides that he already had backup copies of in the basements. Then came the two with their strange non-human companions, carrying books that nearly made his eyebrows retreat to his hairline. The subjects encompassed several forms of electric generation, advanced mechanics, blueprints for reactors and great manufacturing machines he couldn't possibly make heads or tails of, and more. Hugin shifted uncomfortably on her perch, as if unsure how to react, and he absently patted the foot with the two missing front toes.

"Trying to bring back the old world?" he asked as he copied down titles into his logbook. Several of these had no backup copies, but they would probably be better off with people who seem to be vested in using them. Still, he'd at least try to get something of value from the loss.

"Trying to get people back on their feet," the shorter man said. The beaded band under his goggles looked new and well-made. Tomoki wanted to ask about the artist, but his thoughts kept snagging on the words.

"Politics and sociology on the second floor," Tomoki started, and kept to himself the snark about missing the subjects in their rush to get to the technology-related books. It seemed irresponsible to suddenly bring back things that most people seemed fine without. "If you do not intend to return these books, I request the following: food items, clothing, or spare me the scavenging hunt and find me a box of clean paper." It was a paltry list for such valuable materials, but he couldn't expect more.

They glanced at each other, and he ignored the creature who looked over his logbook from its perch on the hunter's cap. The shorter man set his bag on the desk and sifted through it. Much of it looked like survival tools, of which he had no need. What he ended up pulling out was a can, something that looked like a metal filter, and something bundled in old cloth. "Don't know if you like this kind of stuff, but… There's been some trade opening up between Vietnam and the Ryukyu Kingdom, and Ryukyu trades with us. There's not a lot of this, but just enough to lower trade prices. These are whole beans, so you might want to freeze them to last longer." Tomoki couldn't keep the surprise off his face. They didn't mean… Did they? More important than what they were trading was that international trade seemed to have resumed. "Robusta coffee, Vietnamese style. That thingy is the filter. And this," the man started with a grin as he uncovered a mason jar filled with viscous gold, "is honey from a beekeeper I know out in Shimane."

Tomoki congratulated himself for keeping a straight face. Honey wasn't that rare, but still a luxury item. Coffee hadn't made it this far north, as far as he knew. From the sound of it, the coffee trade was only just coming back; he'd have heard earlier if the trade routes were re-established as of two months ago. He grunted and noted the trade items in his logbook. "They'll suffice. Treat the books well."

"We are going to return them," the taller one offered.

He smiled thinly in response and closed the logbook. Hugin, bored, fluttered off to the shelves. "That's what they all say."

The small party left soon afterwards, and life continued uninterrupted. By the time the sun set, he was back in his classroom area and teaching the children of the Clan. There was little variation from the day class, and he was done in an hour. His assistant did the final rounds to flush out anyone lingering in the library and fed the animals, which left Tomoki time to head down to the basement. The coffee he tucked away in the icebox, the honey he kept aside to portion out a bit for his assistant's payment. While honey wasn't all that rare, and there was a beekeeper a few kilometers away in Chiyoda, it was just rare enough to be a treat for his assistant. The boy had been making noises about going home to eat, so Tomoki filled out a basket for him. He felt a little bad about utilizing child labor, but the boy's mother was born with half of one arm and a couple of fingers missing on the other. The job helped support the family when her own employment was sporadic.

By the time the boy turned up in the basement, he had the basket of food ready to go and followed him to the entrance, where he waved the boy off and waited for his orders. An oil lamp provided the light he read by, and the ravens played together nearby.

Takuya arrived an hour later with birdcage in hand and a few fellow travelers nearby, just after he had the ravens settle in for the night. As this was a fairly frequent occurrence, he allowed them in to rest at the tables while Takuya handed off the pigeons and gave his pass phrase just in case. The cover over the cage ensured that the birds were asleep, or at least would be soon. He'd take them back up to the roof in the morning.

"A couple of guys came in with the strangest things," Tomoki began. Dark as it was in the library, the windows let in just enough starlight for Takuya's party to avoid bumping into anything. As he spoke, he lit another lamp for them. "Nothing like any animal I've seen, and they could speak. One was orange with wings on its head, the other looked like a blue dinosaur."

"Digimon," Takuya responded once they started the descent to the basement. While Takuya trusted his party, he preferred to debrief in private. A ball of fire the size of a candle's flame lit the way and hovered just above Takuya's outstretched palm. "We have them inside us, that's why we can do what we do."

Tomoki considered that as he unlocked the second door to the first basement and moved towards his water supply and filled up a jug with his clean water. Not that they couldn't find and treat their own water, but he'd be a poor host if he didn't offer. "They picked up a few books on advanced mechanics and electrical generation. That sort of thing."

"I've seen those guys around," Takuya said as he transferred the flame to a couple of candles standing in pots on what was once a break room table. The smell of melting beeswax and lavender oil soon filled the room, and Takuya settled on his couch. "They're not a problem so long as they stay out of the way."

"So what's going on? I heard Vietnam finally started opening up trade again?"

"Yeah, though in my part of the world, we're working on outlining a treaty with the Ulta and Russians in Sakhalin, and the Nivkh in the Amur River valley. The old lady helped with outlining our practices, but I think we might need to get her out there because none of us has the amount of knowledge she does," Takuya began, his eyes lighting up with remembered excitement. It was infectious and Tomoki couldn't help but smile in response. "I'm heading out to Korea in a month to examine treaty options with them. All the reports say that the North has pretty much been demolished; you remember that crazy dictator, right? But there are still people organizing in the South. China and Russia are still pretty fragmented, but we're leaving China to the Ryukyuans. They have a history of trade which might help."

"And those samples I send? How's that project going?"

"So far, so good." Takuya's enthusiasm faded. "It's the lack of technology we kept running aground with. The kids working on it are really bright, but everything depends on Doc. Keep sending the samples, though. Everything helps."

Tomoki nodded and switched to more mundane matters. That he had Shinya's homework ready for when Takuya wanted to head out, which was technically just copies of every kanji he covered since Shinya was last here. He wouldn't have considered making up homework in the first place, but Shinya seemed set on the idea of becoming a storyteller and needed to be able to read. Then the subjects shifted local politics and decayed into odd stories and amusing anecdotes before Takuya excused himself and gathered his group to head out. They gratefully took the water he offered them and disappeared into the stillness of the city at night.

At the entrance to his library, the darkness alleviated by brilliant stars overhead that were unimpeded by light pollution, Tomoki wondered for the thousandth time what he'd gotten involved in.

 

.*.  
 

Of all the things that life had thrown at her, Ruki found herself preferring stability and reliability over everything else. When things were the way she wanted them, everything had its place and everyone behaved as expected of them. Anything that upset that displeased her, and she has vast quantities of displeasure. It was almost gratifying, in its way. The world could go to hell or turn upside down, and she'd still be annoyed about something. She did always appreciate consistency.

Her day had been spent almost entirely at the Lighthouse going over plans and paperwork and agreements, with naps between sessions. Her one constant in dealing with strangers whose age made her uncomfortable was that Renamon was always lurking in the shadows, as if in silent support. Yoshino and Fukami showed her around, then Yoshino's legs spasmed in pain from hours in the wheelchair and she had to rest, and Ruki was passed off to Mrs. Akiyama. The old woman pushed tea and cookies off on her as if to allay her discomfort, and dove into the outlining of a treaty. Being of a suspicious nature, Ruki held off on signing anything until after her first nap.

In exchange for her protection, which she had given without fully realizing what they held within the castle walls, the Lighthouse would provide technical advice and specialists when available. It was a step up from what she had before, though she refrained from wincing at the cost of housing one of those specialists for the extent of time in which she might need them. Full room, board, and enough food to take back with them. As successful as Osaba was, largely through her sheer stubborn insistence in keeping the place alive, she could hardly claim to be wealthy. That had been Akiyoshi's mistake — he could have taken over, sure, but his model of production and wealth distribution couldn't sustain her people for long, not without creating the kind of social stratification she tried to avoid. It was worth it to agree to the treaty, though. It had to be. The food she quibbled over with the man who followed Mrs. Akiyama once she needed the rest; a big, broad-shouldered man who insisted on simply being called Satsuma; and minor adjustments were made to reflect the new terms. Lunch followed, then another nap.

Fukami then led her to a room that served for classes, for what she assumed was an attempt to appeal to her maternal side, and Renamon trailed silently behind. She'd smirked at the thought, because she had no maternal side. The kids, however, made her uncomfortable in a wholly different way. Kids shouldn't be smart enough to do the kind of college-level math she couldn't hope to understand, not at elementary age. At eight, she'd barely gotten around to mastering fractions.

"Every extinction event provides opportunity for evolution," Fukami said, sounding entirely too smart for her age. "You see it all throughout geological history. That's how we classify the past, you know. The Ordovician, Devonian, Permian, Triassic, and Cretaceous periods end with mass extinctions and begin with a proliferation of new life. The old people think that's what happened with us. We're the children of teenagers who survived the Nellis virus."

"Nellis?" she asked, her brain trying to wrap around the unfamiliar name. She frowned, and the girl hurried to explain.

"That's where the first victim was reported. Nellis Air Force Base, in the United States. We think the virus originated in Area 51, but there's no way to confirm that." Ruki bit her tongue to keep from responding to Fukami's revelation. Of course the most powerful nation in the world at the time would be working on something like that. She knew power, and how far some people would go to keep it.

She was then shown to another room, where Takato appeared to be setting up shop. He turned and flashed a brilliant smile at her that almost made her wince. Oblivious, he trotted up to them in a painter's apron and a smudge of green paint on his cheek. At least he'd shed that ridiculous armor. He welcomed her with another quick hug, which she responded to with an awkward pat on the back. People usually feared her too much to attempt this kind of thing, after all.

"Mr. Satsuma thought I should teach art," Takato said, answering a question that was almost on her tongue. She glanced into the room, and there was no sign of the things he had the night before. With a perceptiveness that surprised her, his smile turned lop-sided. "I handed over Doc's laptop. They said they'll be able to do something with it and I won't have to worry anymore."

"Big relief?" she managed to ask. The man looked a lot more rested and less skittish than he had been.

"Feels like the world's finally off my shoulders." The smile faded, though he did look relieved. He glanced at Renamon, then back at her. "I had a dream, too. They say it happens to some of us, especially those of us with stronger bonds to the past."

Then, without waiting for her to respond, he turned to collect a broad sheet of paper from a work bench. It looked… familiar, somehow. Cartoonish and meant to resemble a child's hand, but… There were several figures. Two were clearly her and Renamon, back when she was very young and tied off her hair in such a way that it ended up spiking upwards, but she didn't recognize the other figures. One of them might have been Takato. She had no idea why it was familiar, though.

"I remember painting this," Takato said. "I don't remember why, or when. But I remember that these people are friends."

Her thumb brushed across part of the outline of a face darker than the rest, with dark, spiky hair. To the left of it was some cream-colored thing with long ears. She didn't think she'd be interested in a past that never happened, but the uncertainty was annoying and she'd rather have more than niggling fragments of memories flitting around the back of her mind. "Can you draw more realistic portraits?"

"Sure. When I'm done, I'll bring them to you. Is that okay?" His eyes searched hers, and she nodded. Socialization being as uncomfortable as it was, she soon excused herself and let Fukami resume the tour. Then there were more papers to look over and bicker about before signing, then a supper she agreed to go to that ended up trying her patience.

By the time she was ready to head back home, she was tired and the stars were out. They'd never been this bright back then; the city lights usually drowned them out. As the gates closed behind her, she began walking alongside her bike. The walk would give her time to process the shock of the day. That she hadn't snapped at anyone was a minor miracle.

"Renamon?" she asked of the shadows, and Renamon soon turned up at her side. "No more surprises. I'm done for the week. If anyone does anything unexpected in my presence, I want you to smack them."

There was a soft, short chuckle and she found herself smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, so it turns out that The X-Files influenced a lot of this, and I wasn't even aware until I started rewatching the show. So, credit where credit is due: elements of the creation of this disease, and the reference to Area 51, came from The X-Files and were enhanced by my own research into immunology, epidemiology, and pathology. In the real world, there have been people weaponizing diseases; experts have known for ages that the Soviet Union had been working on weaponizing pathogens such as smallpox, Marburg (the basis of the Nellis virus here), and others. I will stop here because I know I'll ramble even more because the research I've done is so extensive that I could have written graduate theses on the history of biological warfare. Yoshino has transverse myelitis, which can be a side-effect in survivors of Ebola (a member of the same family as Marburg).
> 
> Also, historically in Japan, beheading outside of the practice of seppuku was considered degrading to the victim. While Ruki's method was quick and didn't leave much time for suffering, there are records of a beheading being done slowly enough to last for several days. Her sticking Akiyoshi's head at the gates is pretty much exclusively in reference to Sultan Mehmed (the Conqueror of Constantinople and attempted conqueror of Italy) sticking Vlad III Dracula's head at the gates as proof of his death.


	16. Strange Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwakuni strikes an alliance with a breadbasket town for multiple reasons. Meanwhile, another alliance is struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The release date of this chapter is purely coincidental. Also, I apologize for the delay.

Two weeks after her visit to the underworld, Ruki fell ill and kept to her rooms while Renamon cared for her. It started with a high fever and sudden headaches, and soon came the nausea, chills, sore throat, muscle aches, and a pronounced fatigue that ensured she couldn't leave her bed without help. Then there were patches of rash. She feared the worst, that somehow she'd come across the disease that killed the adults, and held tight to the string of tiger teeth she usually hid under her clothes in the ridiculous hope that it'd give her strength. She slept through much of the latter course of the disease for the most part, but Renamon relayed her orders to Hirokazu when she was awake enough to be coherent.

A week later and she recovered, two days after the worst of the disease had passed. The only thing that lingered was a slight tinge of pink that was all that was left of the rashes; and the lack of the deadlier symptoms associated with the plague of the old world assured her that it was something else entirely. She went back to work as soon as she could, never thinking to connect this mysterious disease to anything else.

.*.

For all that April was in full swing, it didn't seem like it in the air-conditioned personal quarters of Iwakuni. Patamon dozed in bed under a thick blanket, having complained about the cold air and the placement of their bed just before his nap, while Takeru reviewed his notes at a desk that had seen better days. He'd wanted to keep track of his travels, but Ken usually kept them so busy that he never really had the time. He took careful note in his journal of every clue and chance encounter, though few of them had anything to do with his parents. Before he left Tokyo, Yamato had again stressed his myopia and that he had to look at the bigger picture. Takeru had thought it was rather unfair given his brother's tendencies, but after a night of introspection and after Tomoki's remark in the library, he conceded that Yamato had a point.

Like the other agents, he fell in line with Ken's message of a better future and didn't question when Ken requested materials. He was quick to defend Ken's decisions when he came across criticism being whispered in the mess hall because he believed. On the few occasions in which he indulged Ken in games of Go and cups of tea, Ken sometimes broke down and admitted his doubts. This only had the effect of further solidifying his support. But then the question started arising: was Ken going too fast? How many of the local powers would rally to his cause? Mimi was a given, for which Takeru was thankful, but what of the minor settlements and the principalities ruled by Clans? They needed more than just Niigata, and Takeru's thoughts again returned to Ruki. For all that he was coming to better understand her, she was still something of a wildcard. But if she was willing to support an alliance, he was sure that others would follow her example. It was a subject he would have to broach with Ken whenever time allowed.

As it was, none of the people involved at higher levels than him had much free time lately. One of the other agent teams managed to secure an alliance with a port town south of Sendai. It was a strategic alliance, Ken had confided to him over a game just the other night, and the technicians planted there would keep an eye out for signs of wide-scale military movements. Should Amaterasu choose to take over and revive any of the remaining military bases, Ken's computer would warn them. By building an alliance with Watari, they could gain access to and monitor the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force base of Camp Sendai. Though Takeru doubted that Amaterasu would deploy a ground-based assault and had said as much, Ken pointed out that the techs would also be in contact with the traders and merchants using the port. Takeru hadn't pressed the issue after that, but he had to wonder if it was enough.

Sometime after he had his notes more or less in order, Shaochung's voice sounded over the PA system. "The time is now ten o' clock. All active agents are required to meet in Deployment in fifteen minutes," she chirped brightly, then went over the day's lunch special and club events, and other inconsequential announcements. After a run-down of the maintenance schedule, she ended with a cheery "Have a nice day!" and he wondered where she got all the energy to remain chipper day after day. The thought was tabled as Patamon fluttered in and landed on the desk to help him tuck his notes away.

Fifteen minutes later, Deployment was filled with teams of agents, all of whom had digimon with them. Jun pointedly ignored her brother, who seemed less than thrilled by the thought of her going out into the field again. Rather than bother Daisuke, Takeru wandered over to Gazimon and Lianjie, who patted the hood of his rover in invitation. He took the offer and sat next to the eldest Li as Patamon settled on the roof next to Gazimon. They traded small talk until Ken appeared with Sora close behind. It looked odd without Jianliang's hovering, but he'd gone on ahead to oversee security at Watari.

Ken stood tall and straight-backed as he began; Wormmon attempted to look officious beside him. "Good morning. I've gathered you today to discuss our upcoming project in Watari, Miyagi. As some of you may know, we've sent some of our techs and mechanics on ahead to install a small wind farm until such a time as we have the ability to commit to stable geothermal development. In exchange, Watari has agreed to an alliance. This alliance will keep us informed of the outside world and shelter agents who may pass their way. In the interest of goodwill, I will be attending a small ceremony in Watari. Some of you may be asked to join me, others will be asked to assist in securing the ceremony site and maintaining order, if needed. Those who remain will be asked to assist our own security in patrolling our perimeter. This is not a casual venture and will not be treated as such. Information packets will be issued by team. Please see Sora, Jialin, and Wormmon upon receiving your assignments."

The packets were issued when each team's code was called out, and the agents reorganized themselves back into their teams. V-mon, who had been closer to the issuer, took their packet for them and trotted back to Daisuke. Patamon was quick to follow him, and Takeru left Lianjie's side with a quick farewell. "We get escort detail," Daisuke said once Takeru arrived. "You ever been in the area?"

"Not after the big one," Takeru admitted, and crowded close to read over the cover sheet. Escort detail meant that they would be one of two teams to be close to Ken at all times, the other team consisting of military personnel. There were multiple sheets outlining their duties, a schedule for the trip, a booklet of detailed instructions that had Jianliang's tendency for tight-fisted control written all over it, and so on. A green dot of watercolor paint on a sheet with a small legend indicated that they were to report to Wormmon, Sora being marked in the legend in red, indicating travel security, and Jialin in black, indicating home security.

On the way to report to Wormmon, Daisuke nudged him with an elbow and grinned. Curious, Takeru followed his gaze and noticed Jun's team in the home security line forming in front of Jialin. It made Takeru slightly uneasy, because he clearly remembered venting to Ken over how distracted Daisuke tended to get over his sister. He wondered if Ken was giving his words more consideration than he should. The other team soon joined them, consisting of two women he wasn't entirely familiar with. The one with her light brown hair drawn tight into a bun at the base of her skull was Senri; Takeru had bumped into her a few times before, and Daisuke knew her from a poker group he'd joined a few weeks after Ken hired them. The other introduced herself as Manami, a serious woman with bobbed dark hair and the callused knuckles of a boxer.

They took a moment to look over the cover sheet and then met with Wormmon, who was delighted to have so much responsibility. They would go by a cruising yacht moored in the bay, the restored machinery of which had been Naomi's secret project for the past year and the reason for her tendency to overreact to every time someone damaged a part in the rovers. At top speed, using both sail and gas when needed, it would take several days to reach their destination. Taking a rover might have been more practical, but Jianliang wanted to be sure that Ken would not be seen by their enemies, and they were less likely to run into hostilities on the open sea. It seemed that everything was accounted for, including a few pages dedicated to detailing what to do in case of pirate attacks. Pirates being more of a problem nearer to the Ryukyu Kingdom and the continent-facing side of Japan, the risk of running into them on the open sea was relatively small.

It wasn't until after the lunch rush that they managed to take a break from reviewing plans and travel details, and the digimon were practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of a new way to travel.

.*.

The big one hit a few years ago, the one that the talking heads on television used to say only happened once a century and was due any time now. Takeru remembered the talking heads only because there had been a 6.5 magnitude quake several hundred kilometers southeast of Tokyo in 1997, the year of his parents' divorce, and they were talking about how seismologists were expecting the greatest earthquake in Japanese history to come from some chunk of crust wedged between plates near Tokyo. It was a little bit of trivia half-forgotten until the big one ended up coming from the north instead, years after the talking heads died. Not that it could be measured at the time, given that the instruments that did such things had long been out of commission, but Takeru had been grilling fish near the Naka River when it hit, and both the unusual length of the quake and the flooding of the river that happened soon afterwards suggested something much stronger than the usual shaking and rumbling. It wasn't until much later that traders confirmed that it'd happened up north, and a drink with them brought back that memory of sitting in front of the television and trying to drown out his parents' arguments by raising the program's volume.

The Watari they arrived at on a balmy April day was surely a testament to the tenacity of the human spirit. The trip itself had taken a few days, and they had crash courses in learning how to sail from a Ryukyuan trader who joined the crew. Apparently he was one of Kai's cousins and considered trustworthy. Manami and the trader stayed behind to keep an eye on the cruising yacht, which left them free to roam. Everything that had fallen to unusable ruin had been taken down and cleared out, and replaced by new buildings and causeways. On one of the few buildings that survived the tsunami, the high water mark was immortalized in a sweeping line of red paint along the harbor-facing wall, and all other signs had been cleaned from the walls. Boats of various makes and models were tied at the docks and bobbed with the waves, and Takeru wondered at the sailboat with traditional Chinese lettering that he couldn't quite make out. Was it from Taiwan or Hong Kong, or just a ship that had been in Japanese waters at the time of the Apocalypse and adopted when its owners never returned to claim it?

There was a fish market close by Arahama Port still reeking from the morning's catch, which was closed by the time they arrived. Once they rounded a corner, they found Jen, Terriermon, and one of the locals waiting for them in an infantry mobility vehicle marked with the modified Iwakuni insignia. The original eagle-and-torii design of MCAS Iwakuni was painted over by a black kite rousant atop a stylized white cherry blossom, and its position on the most heavily armored vehicle they had made it probably the most blatant target in the Iwakuni fleet. Terriermon waved at them from atop the roof of the cab, and then launched himself off to glide around V-mon and tackle him. Patamon pounced in afterwards and the happy cluster of digimon rolled in the grass as Jianliang introduced them to the local official and Daisuke talked with Senri. Then there was some discussion between Jianliang, Ken, and the official that Takeru didn't care for. Instead, he took the moment to appreciate the salt sea air mixed with the rich alluvial scent of the Abukuma River and the distant clean freshness of new growth. Beyond the port were carefully tended fields as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by roads and irrigation ditches. The Sendai plain having been farmland even before the end of the old world, it didn't seem like the crops would need much management. There were distant workers who stood briefly to observe them before returning to tending the fields.

Before he could find it in him to appreciate the raucous cry of sea birds, the digimon were herding into the back of the truck and Daisuke called for him to join them. He climbed in to sit on the bench next to Daisuke, who was in an animated discussion about some cartoon he and Senri watched as kids. The digimon moved on to new games, which left him to watch the fields roll behind them. The flat swaths of grain and roads were only periodically broken, either by rows of greenhouses or the occasional residence and support structures, or by patches of fruit trees. Ken may not have mentioned it, but forging an alliance with Watari surely had another purpose. If worst came to worst, they would need more food than Iwakuni could provide to support an army, and Watari seemed to have that in abundance.

Eventually the plains gave way to gently sloping hills. Fruit and nut trees became more abundant along the road, and every now and then he could spot an apiary tended by beekeepers in their telltale masks and white protective gear. The salt in the air faded and he could smell the apple blossoms and ripening strawberries in the wind. Then, several kilometers inland, the residences, shrines, and shops popped up. Most were abandoned, but those that weren't were well-tended and seemed to want for nothing but municipal water and electricity. A few twists and turns deeper into town and they finally arrived at their destination: the town hall of Watari. The Iwakuni land rovers were parked along the road, and next to the building were a number of bicycles, many of which looked to be patched up or created wholesale from other bikes. He could smell the wet concrete of a constructed channel nearby, so there was clearly a stable water supply. They finally disembarked, and Senri left them for a cluster of agents and digimon sitting in the beds of a couple of rovers. Ken was herded into town hall by Jianliang, and the official with them followed close behind. This left them with the digimon, and Terriermon launched himself off the IMV to glide towards the group.

Rather than join the group, as was Daisuke's wont, he shuffled to Takeru's side and watched Wormmon and V-mon being hauled into a rover's bed by someone's goblimon. "Nice place," Daisuke said at last. "How do you think they kept out of the hands of Raiders?"

It was a good question, and one that Takeru could only guess at. "Maybe they have protection from nearby settlements? Or maybe the Raiders just never bothered to come back after that earthquake and tsunami a few years back? Who knows? Ken says that there's an old JGSDF camp not far from here, so they might even protect themselves."

Daisuke seemed to consider that, and shrugged. "Maybe." Then he leaned back against the reinforced plates that served as the IMV's armor and considered Takeru for a moment. "Heard you've been around Ken a lot lately." Then he chuckled lightly at Takeru's befuddlement. "Hey, anything that gets you away from that notebook of yours can only be a good thing."

Takeru was tempted to roll his eyes. "I don't spend that much time with it. And who told you, anyway?"

"You wouldn't think it, but Terriermon is a huge gossip. Get enough drink in him and he'll spill the beans on just about anyone."

"Ah." That wasn't as surprising as Takeru would have expected. Most times it seemed that a human/digimon partnership formed to teach them something they lacked. Given that Jianliang was serious and often controlling, it made sense that Terriermon was laid-back and played with others. He wanted to ask something very crass regarding Jianliang's disposition, but then thought better of it. "It's nothing, really. Tea, board games, and we talk a bit and he asks about the outside world."

"Boring," Daisuke responded with that lightness that suggested that he was just teasing. "Give me the sports clubs and gossip sessions with Terriermon any day."

Takeru gave a noncommittal grunt and leaned against the IMV next to Daisuke. The digimon were now chasing each other and the other agents started a card game that he had no particular interest in. In the trees were the lilting songs of small birds, and every now and then a local would peer in on them from the intersection before moving on. Eventually Daisuke moved on to join the game, and Takeru opted to explore a bit. Or, he would have if an official-looking person hadn't invited them in for lunch.

The digimon cheered and only a small degree of maturity kept them from running inside. Takeru felt Patamon's weight settle onto his cap and the little digits dig in to get a good grip, and he reached up to scratch lightly at Patamon's side before heading inside with the other agents and their partners.

Electric light allowed them to traverse windowless corridors with ease, and they were escorted to what was once the town hall assembly chamber. At each seat was a bento box filled nearly to bursting with fresh local food, a bowl of miso soup, and steaming iron tea pots in easy reach. Ken, Jianliang, and the local officials were huddled around a table and pausing in their discussions only to respond to each other, which left them to enjoy the meal.

The tea was surely locally grown, for the leaves were fresh and aromatic. Each compartment of the bento boxes was filled with something different: rice boiled in fish broth and topped with an arrangement of sasakamaboko, slices of cucumbers and daikon topped by wakame and roasted sesame seeds, thinly sliced beef grilled with mushrooms and scallions and lightly flavored with a brown sauce that reminded him of Chinese food, and a roll of sushi filled with cool, crisp vegetables. In the fruit tray were slices of dekopon and strawberries, apricots and lychee, and a jelly that turned out to be flavored by strawberry wine. He tucked in as quickly as politeness would allow, though several digimon had no such inclination. It was better than the staples served at Iwakuni, much better than anything he'd made on the road, and he was pretty sure he hadn't had anything this good since the fall of the old world. Once the rice took the edge off his hunger, he slowed down to savor the rest. A meal like this wasn't going to come along again for a long time.

Daisuke, who was seated to his right and gazing almost adoringly at the half-eaten cube of strawberry wine jelly between his chopsticks, asked aloud; "Did we just die and go to heaven?"

"We never saw the toxic gas coming," Takeru said with a chuckle, and poured out another cup of tea for Patamon. He paid no attention to the officials and Ken getting up to head out to investigate Camp Sendai.

.*.

With Ken occupied with political matters and a posse of Iwakuni security guards following him everywhere, Takeru roped into helping set up the nearby school for the official ceremony by agents who had been here for a week to install the wind farm, and V-mon playing with other digimon he hadn't seen in months, Daisuke didn't really have much to do. He explored instead, taking in the smells of flowering plants and fruits that were already ripening. There was a wall overgrown with honeysuckle, which he stopped at for a quick shot of sweetness. He was in the middle of pinching off the green bulb at the end of a flower to draw out the nectar when he heard voices. Curious, he quietly shifted closer to the source until he could make them out.

"It was a bad idea to let Ken out," one of the voices said. The Wanderer who kept disappearing on them. "Please tell me he agreed to a vest."

Jianliang's voice responded, and Daisuke was hardly surprised at this point. "You think I haven't tried? He said he wants these people to trust him, and he won't get that if they see him in a vest."

There was a curse, then; "He's an idiot. Keep an eye out, then. I overheard some things. Nothing solid, but you should know."

"I'll increase security and have the buildings investigated. Anything else?"

"Juri sends her love, Takato's safe and happy as a clam, and Ruki insists on being on the board." There was a faint crinkle of paper while the Wanderer spoke, and Daisuke had to assume that something was being passed along.

"I thought you respected Ruki too much to add her to the board." Another crinkle and a rustle of fabric that made Daisuke suspect that the paper was being tucked away.

There was a sigh of resignation. "I do, but I'm not up for arguing with her. Always hated arguing with people."

"What changes, then?"

"Nothing that matters. We'll figure it out when we get there." There was a pause, then… "I should go and find a bottle of that strawberry wine they have here. He loves that stuff. Take care."

"Wait. How is he?"

"Stir-crazy," the Wanderer responded. "Keep an eye on Ken, okay?"

Daisuke couldn't wait around anymore. He tore off some vine and rounded the corner, intent on catching the Wanderer and Jianliang together. But when he arrived on the scene, there was no one there but Jianliang and a tsukaimon. Jianliang shot him a look that boded ill for him should he press the issue, but he never believed in sneaking around.

"Hey, I thought I heard voices," Daisuke started. He was proactive, not foolish.

"Yes, Tsukaimon was delivering a report and some paper." Jianliang pulled a sheaf of folded rice paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and offered it for Daisuke's inspection. It smelled of lemons; try as he might, Daisuke couldn't see a thing on it. "Would you like for Tsukaimon to waste his time and repeat his report to you?"

Daisuke eyed Tsukaimon warily; cute as he was, he suspected that Tsukaimon wasn't nearly as friendly and accommodating as Patamon. There was a calculating gleam in those big yellow eyes that promised a world of unpleasantness should he press on the matter. "Nah. I didn't hear anything anyway." Then he proffered a fistful of honeysuckle on the vine. "Want some?"

Jianliang stared at the flowers as if Daisuke was offering a handful of snakes instead. "Ah… no. We should both be going back to work." Without waiting for a reply, Jianliang turned and walked back to the town hall. The tsukaimon fluttered off elsewhere, and soon disappeared beyond the trees. Daisuke fought down the urge to express his disgust, because he certainly didn't believe a thing Jianliang said, and followed him to town hall.

The incident kept Daisuke on his toes, and though he wasn't naturally inclined towards the level of observation Takeru had, he did notice that security was ramped up and Jianliang had some agents stationed at any building that could serve as a sniper's nest. Not even the digimon escaped his orders, and Daisuke waved at Patamon when he noticed him up on a roof near the school where Ken would be speaking. At the building's entrance was Takeru, who looked less than thrilled by Patamon's assignment, and V-mon, who accepted some honeysuckle gratefully.

"It's a goddamned book depository," Takeru muttered once Daisuke joined him and offered the remaining handful of honeysuckle, which was taken up with a mumbled "thanks". It surprised him; Takeru usually took that tone of his when he was remarking on something hugely ironic and unfunny.

He leaned against the lintel and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Afraid the reference is lost on me."

"Old world history. There was a president who was assassinated by a sniper in a book depository." Takeru shrugged as he fiddled with the vine.

"How did you learn so much history, anyway?"

"It's hard to find entertainment these days," Takeru said dryly. "I'd pick up a book in one town and drop it off in another."

"Books were never my thing," Daisuke began. He was fully intent on explaining his preference for oral histories and campside stories when there was the sharp whine of microphone feedback. He stood at attention, which for him involved standing a little straighter. The parking lot in front of the school was filled with the locals, most of whom seemed to work the land in one way or another. There were field tillers in broad straw hats, orchard tenders with the occasional leaf in their hair, beekeepers, fishermen, and their families.

The mayor, satisfied that the audio system was working, cleared his throat and began. From this distance, the signs of weathering seemed only present in his sun-browned skin, and he looked no different from any of the farmers Daisuke had come across. "Welcome! Watari has always been prosperous, give or take a few bad years, and our neighbors ever generous in their willingness to protect us from those who would destroy us. However, today we welcome Iwakuni into our circle of friends. For a share of our bounty, Iwakuni has given us electricity and the gas needed to power our tractors. Please join me in welcoming Ichijouji Ken, leader of Iwakuni!"

The sudden applause was almost deafening. Ken stepped up to a makeshift stage in front of the school, dressed in the green-and-white of Iwakuni and looking like a real leader. Like they might actually have a chance of changing things for the better. He crossed the plywood expanse with measured steps to join Watari's mayor at the microphone. "On behalf of Iwakuni, I thank you for your generosity, Mayor—"

There was a deafening crack in the air, then another a few seconds later. Ken slumped, only caught at the last minute from falling by the panic-stricken mayor. Jianliang rushed to Ken's side, barking orders to security along the way. Given the direction in which security was moving, Daisuke suspected where the bullet had come from and ran to check on the agents guarding the building to the southwest of them. They were dead, and Patamon slumped and bleeding on the street that separated the book depository from the small office building. Shocked, he paused when he reached Patamon's side. The little digimon would have none of it. "Roof," Patamon rasped, and V-mon caught up to him. That was some relief, though Daisuke did not have the time to deal with V-mon's shock right now.

"Keep an eye on Patamon and call for Takeru. I'll be back." Then he scrambled up the fire escape as quickly as he could. Looking up, he spotted a swish of a dull brown hanten and pushed himself to his limit. Halfway between the second and third stories, the air thinned so much that he had to pause for breath. On the third story, the air returned as mysteriously as it disappeared. By the time he reached the roof, above the fourth and final story, there was a painful stitch in his side and the body of a sniper lying in a pool of blood. He took a few moments more to even out his breathing and will away the stitch before attempting to look over the sniper. Whoever had killed him had disappeared.

There were four holes in the body that went straight through. Like spears had been used, but thicker and less uniform than any type of spear he knew of. There would have been no way for the sniper to survive. He pulled out a kerchief from his back pocket and tied it around his face to cover his nose and mouth, and went to work. There had to be a clue somewhere.

He'd done this before, he scolded himself when the bile started rising. But when he had, it had been when he had no idea where his next meal would come from. When once he would rummage through a corpse's things to find something for trade, now Daisuke needed a clue to his identity. Respect be damned; it belonged in a different world, anyway. The pile to his side grew as he emptied each pocket, apparent and hidden, and he took mental stock of the clothes. Machine woven and stitched cotton, starched collar, patterned in the greys and off-whites of urban camoflage. The sniper had age-salted black hair in a crew cut and lines in his face, but there wasn't a single shred of identifying information on him. Just a ruggedized PDA wrapped in a white kerchief with a red sun radiant, vacuum-sealed packets of rations, a cellphone, and a glossy photo of Ken that was clearly taken inside the base. There was a bag, but it only seemed to be for the scope, rifle, tripod, and ammunition.

"Anything else," Jianliang asked as he stepped off the fire escape and onto the roof. His mouth was fixed in a thin frown, and his eyes seemed to burn with cold fury. If it had been directed at Daisuke, he would have seriously worried for his well-being.

Daisuke stood and brushed off gravel from his knees. "That's it. How's Ken?"

"He lives, thanks to Patamon. The sniper didn't have the time to fix his aim." His frown deepened as his steel grey eyes shifted to the body. "I'll clean up here."

Given that Jianliang couldn't be clearer if he dismissed Daisuke outright, he figured it was time to check in on Patamon. He could always get Takeru to ask Ken about the findings later. He scurried down the fire escape even as he could hear Jianliang's soldiers stomp upwards from the stairs inside. There was a small group gathered around where Patamon fell, though others were dragging the bodies of the fallen agents away, too. Takeru stood in the center with a heavily bandaged Patamon in his arms, and one of the other agents securing his bandage. He took a moment to pick up V-mon, who still seemed a bit shaken, and approached his friends.

"Hey, how's our brave little hero," Daisuke asked, taking care not to jostle Takeru's arm in the process of scratching lightly on a wing joint the way Patamon liked.

"It hurts." Patamon blinked up at him and tried to smile through the pain. "But I'll be okay."

"Never seen a digimon bleed out like this," Takeru muttered.

The woman who had bandaged Patamon shook her head. Akari, was it? Daisuke saw her team very seldom; it seemed that they were always out while his team was at the base. "It's a recent thing, I think. Shoutmon got shot a couple of years back and bled like this, too. And Cutemon was stabbed a few years before that, but he didn't bleed like biological organisms do. Not as sticky or… coppery, anyway."

He blinked at her, and his partner shuddered against him. V-mon's voice cracked when he spoke, like he hadn't expected to be faced with mortality so soon. "It's because the Digital World has been closed off for so long, isn't it?"

"Maybe. Look, I need to take Patamon to recover somewhere quiet." Takeru sounded a lot more hollowed-out than he looked, and Daisuke decided to eschew his plans to join the evening's poker game with Senri. Takeru wasn't going to ask for it, but he needed support.

Akari laid a light hand on Takeru's elbow, the one that wasn't crooked to hold Patamon close. "Stay with us for the night. Our room is closest. I'll have Taiki bring supper so you can focus on Patamon."

Takeru mumbled a brief "thanks" and followed Akari to the school. Daisuke wasn't far behind.

.*.

It was late in the morning when Ken woke up; after being shot, it was only to be expected. Wormmon never left his side, save to bring some much-needed opium, and napped in a chair near the bed. He had no idea how much opium he ended up taking, but he'd been out like a light during surgery. His head felt like it was full of cotton and he had a hard time remembering what happened after the assassination attempt, but he was grateful that the town kept a small crop of opium poppies and had someone on hand with experience with deep wounds. Then there were a few visitors, and Jen reported something or other, but his mind kept circling around a fragment of memory that he wasn't sure was even real. The other visitors he could account for, but why was he hallucinating about being visited by an old friend he had kicked out years ago?

He shifted a little and winced at the shot of pain radiating from his ribs. If it hadn't been for that first shot going awry, he wouldn't have had the time to move. As it was, the bullet scored a few ribs and went out behind them, narrowly missing vital organs and critical blood vessels. His right shoulder would be useless for a few months, but he much preferred that to losing his life. He'd have to thank Patamon properly once they returned to base.

Roughly thirty minutes into his day, while he tried to read a book one-handed and shortly after the mayor's son checked in on him, he was visited by the mayor himself. In the foggy aftermath of his drugged state, the mayor's name escaped him and he was a bit too proud to admit it. He knew, however, that the deep consternation on the mayor's weather-beaten face did not bode well for him.

"You can stay until our medic says you're up for travel," he began, his gnarled, calloused fingers worrying away at the brim of a straw hat. Ken could already feel the months of hard work slip through his fingers. "But we don't want trouble. Please understand. You can keep the food. It's a gift. But we've dismantled the wind farms and left the parts with your rovers. We can't keep anything that will draw unwanted attention."

As he suspected. He kept himself from thinking overmuch on the heavy loss and smiled pleasantly. "We understand. Thank you for the gift, however. It's much appreciated. Will you give your wife my regards?"

"Yes, of course." The man stammered and his fingers tensed on the brim of his hat, and Ken knew then exactly what had happened. Amaterasu had gotten here first.

.*.

In the beginning, Taichi had genuinely tried to keep them all together. When his family first got the call that his father died at work, he'd taken the initiative to call everyone he knew. Yamato and Takeru opted to hole up in their mother's apartment as long as they could, and Jou said that he'd be out of town getting a crash course in field medicine from his surviving brother. Sora he couldn't contact no matter how often he called her or visited her apartment, and later found that her home had been empty since March. Mimi's mother turned up one day with eyes as red-rimmed as her daughter's, and dropped her off with Tanemon in a tearful farewell that left Taichi aching in sympathy. Koushiro turned up not long afterwards with Mochimon, looking as hollowed-out as Taichi felt in those days, and organized a system of looting schedules and maps. Taichi should have been appalled, but he grew too burned out trying to keep everything together to worry overmuch about ethical ramifications. The parents that survived took them to the campsite where they first met and stayed with them as long as they could. Mr. Izumi was the first to die, having disappeared the night after exhibiting symptoms. Mimi was inconsolable and Koushiro shut down, and Taichi was so thankful that their digimon were there for them that he forgot to ask how they came to the real world. He'd had enough to deal with just taking care of Hikari, who just wouldn't let go of Protomon no matter how much he tried to rescue her digimon. When his mother finally took him aside, he'd already prepared for what was coming. It didn't stop the ache in his chest or the itchiness of his eyes, though. She told him how proud she was of him, and how strong a leader he was, and he couldn't bring himself to resent the way she made him cry. After she said her goodbyes to Hikari, she too disappeared into the woods.

With so much on his shoulders, Taichi could only allow himself the night to grieve. Afterwards, he ran purely on automatic and Hikari stepped up to help him out. They needed to distribute rations and collect water, sweep the cabins and make sure that their food supply was well guarded. Koushiro eventually came back to himself and reviewed the materials he'd taken out of the Hibiya branch of the library and never returned. The maps showed them where to go for water, what plants grew where, what towns they could find on the road, and more. The books involved native edible plants and basic survival skills. The Digital World may have been rough, but it was worse here, somehow. There was no Gennai to help them, they couldn't count on finding friendly digimon and mysterious vending machines and egg-filled refrigerators in the middle of nowhere, and they had to make do the best they could. Yamato and Takeru joined them sometime in early September with their supplies strapped to a little red wagon, and Taichi wondered where Yamato had found the hunting rifle strapped to his back. Jou arrived on the back of an old carriage horse a couple of weeks later, with several other aging horses on leads and packs of sorely-needed medical supplies. For all the tragedies around them, things were starting to look up.

Taichi hated the looting the most, but it was necessary if they were going to survive the winter. It was usually him with Yamato and Koushiro in the parties, and sometimes the digimon would come along for moral support, and Jou went along with the younger horses if they needed to get away fast or needed the extra strength. Mimi adamantly refused to go on looting parties, preferring instead to stay with Hikari and Takeru and scratch in the dirt in an attempt to build a garden. Just as well. Looting was risky, especially if other parties were around, and they frequently ran into escaped zoo animals and stray pets wherever they went. Looting involved facing the reality that people were dead and the ones who remained were no more than carrion birds, and sometimes Taichi wondered if Mimi had the right idea all along. But it was too late in the year for gardening, and by the time they were sure they had enough supplies, the snow was falling. Only the fact that they _had_ prepared kept them alive and fairly comfortable in the coldest winter any of them had ever known. The oldest horses died in a particularly severe blizzard and they learned quickly to make use of all the parts they could. Jou and Mimi grew so sick that they had to be isolated in a separate cabin, and all their digimon tended to them just in case it was contagious. Their illnesses broke by Halloween and Jou and Mimi grew closer than ever. The cabins became their home.

Not that they could stay, of course. By the time the snow thawed, the Army for a Pure Japan started roaming the countryside with guns they'd stolen from one of the U.S. bases. Jou, who never revealed exactly what he and Mimi came down with, grew increasingly agitated about the Army until he finally broke and argued with Taichi about leaving. Taichi dug in his heels, of course; the campsite was pretty much home now, and they had a fairly decent thing going. Then Jou took him aside and explained the horrible truth: he and Mimi had come down with the same thing that killed the adults. Taichi could understand why Jou had it, since he was older, but Mimi? Mimi was eleven then, she couldn't have been old enough to get it. Jou explained that she had careful to hide the signs, fearing that she'd be thrown out, but it only strengthened Taichi's resolve to keep them together. They packed what they could in a stripped-down tourist carriage and strapped two of the three remaining horses to the yoke, and left before the Army turned up.

Then they split a few weeks later. Yamato and Takeru went first, their digimon with them, on some foolish quest to find their parents that Taichi had argued against. A month of wandering later and Mimi was desperate to settle down. She too left once they came across a farming community and she became fast friends with a girl named Keiko, and Jou stayed behind with her. Koushiro marked her location on a map that had become a chart of their travels, and they continued on their way. Eventually they settled in Nagoya, in a little apartment above a pub where Koushiro began his project of tracking people. Then someone tried to force himself on Hikari while Taichi was arguing in the market and they were off again. As unacceptable as attempted rape was, caving the boy's head in during the fight afterwards was worse. Koushiro remained behind, his project having grown too large to abandon.

It had been during a pit stop at a Shinto shrine that Hikari voiced her idea to become a shrine maiden herself. She was his sister and he wanted her to be happy, and to him happiness didn't include serving everyone under the sun and taking ice-cold showers for purification and cleaning up shrines on a daily basis. But she found herself a set of shrine maiden robes and took an apprenticeship with a girl whose family once ran the shrine. He found himself some jobs in town, she learned her new trade. Even when she wasn't on the job, she'd come to the house they shared and studied other religions. At first he'd teased her about hitting the books, but she never rose to the bait. Then he suggested that she might try learning more useful things, which earned him a lecture on the necessity of belief. Belief in the self, in higher powers, in others, in the universe itself. To her it didn't matter. A few more rounds of this over the years and he gave up. She was finding her strength in her new role, and isn't that what he wanted?

Even now, he wasn't quite sure. The priestess with a quiet, untapped well of inner strength and quiet confidence and the will to state her mind was a far cry from the little girl who hid behind him, which he appreciated. But he missed being relied upon as much as he had been when they were kids. These days he guarded her, or ran errands for her, and sometimes he missed a good old-fashioned fist-fight and taking charge of the group and running into battle. Of course, he also missed ice cream and air conditioning. A man learns to adapt, no matter how much he might resist change.

At least the universe handed him some constants. Jou visited ever so often, carrying messages from whoever he ran into. It was how the old group kept in contact now and shared news when their paths didn't always intersect. It was how they knew that Sora was safe, and when Mimi got married in that grand production of a sham wedding and when the baby was due, and how they learned of the argument that led to Takeru going on his own to chase down the ghosts of his parents. Even the digimon pitched in to write letters to each other, no matter how bad their penmanship. This pattern was comfortable in its consistency, which was why Jou's current visit was a surprise. Jou was well off his usual circuit and had an apprentice and an extra pack horse with him. The apprentice was introduced as Chiaki, and she looked terribly awkward until Junpei gently took her aside to introduce her to some of Hikari's longest lasting followers.

"So what brings you to the Tanba-inari shrine," Taichi asked of Jou once one of the congregation members took the horses to fresh water and Gomamon flopped off with Agumon in search of Tailmon. Jou looked less spindly and overworked than he usually did, which was a positive change. Clearly having an apprentice helped. He might not say it, but he was proud of Jou for finally realizing that he didn't have to shoulder all the responsibility that came with being better educated in medicine than most people in this new world.

Jou's gaze drifted to the Nishi-Seto expressway linking Honshu to Shikoku, where Hikari planned to take her congregation someday to undergo the eighty-eight temple pilgrimage. Now, however, the Grail's visit had complicated things. "Hikari sent a letter, said I should get here as soon as I could. What's up?"

"You know that Grail Hikari was told about? We found him and sent him somewhere safe." If 'safe' could apply to a town where the self-styled queen opted to humiliate a man in death by taking off his head and sticking it at the gates, anyway. He frowned and stuffed his fists in his pockets at the memory, Ruki having been one of the least pleasant people he'd had to deal with in a long time. "He left a gift."

Jou's eyebrows quirked at that. "I thought Hikari said you had a small epidemic on your hands."

"That's it. That's the gift." Deep concern appeared on Jou's face, and Taichi rushed to explain. "Now, I don't understand a thing about how these things work. Hikari said that the guy who brought the Grail here said it's like how cowpox was for smallpox. Which makes no sense to me, but you'll probably understand."

"Cowpox is a disease closely related to smallpox, just much less deadly," Jou began. He looked slightly relieved, but not by much. "In the 1700's, Jenner found that people who contracted cowpox developed an immunity to smallpox. It's not perfect, and it's a poor delivery system, and there's a big potential for disaster should this mutate, but… Taichi, do you know what you have?"

Taichi smiled wryly. "I'm good at three things: soccer, telling people what to do, and construction for some reason. Care to drop a hint?"

Jou sighed, though he did look hopeful. "I'm not sure, but it sounds like you have a vaccine of sorts. To what, I don't know. I'll have to look over the people who came down with this."

"Well, then." He couldn't help the grin that split his face. Hikari said that the Grail would save them all. Taichi knew he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but with this much danger involved with moving Takato around, this sounded more and more like it had to be a solution to the disease that killed all the adults. He gestured to the shrine with a bit more flourish than necessary. "The sick people are in there."

With his long legs, Jou strode to the shrine at a pace that Taichi had to jog to keep up with. He was much too excited to protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The fragment Takeru is thinking about is the Kanto triple junction at Tokyo, where the Pacific plate and Philippine plate are being subducted under Japan. Broken off under one of these plates is a 25 km thick fragment of crust, which further complicates the seismology of the region. There's a lot of debate over whether this or the Sagami Trough is the cause of the big earthquakes in the region.


	17. Spiders in the Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an attempt at Ken's life reveals that Iwakuni has fewer friends than expected, Ken seeks an alliance with a neighboring territory and Jianliang attempts to find a suspected mole in their midst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the one following are actually supposed to be one chapter, but they've been split due to length. Hopefully the next one will come out sooner.

_It felt like he'd been here a hundred times. Himself, sitting in the dark and watching the figure through a monitor work with something so deadly that it required the use of one of the buildings converted exclusively for laboratory use and a positive pressure personnel suit with a few extra layers of gloves. There was even an acetylene-fueled welding torch used to incinerate samples that had gotten out of control. Every measure possible had been taken, and still Jianliang felt uncomfortable watching and listening to Osamu as he worked. Not because he doubted Osamu's brilliance, but because Osamu had been so tired of late that he'd roped Jianliang into talking to him as he worked. So he talked. First of important things, such as his new job as chief of security and how his training of Terriermon into a spymaster was going. Then there were the rumors that Terriermon reported back to him under the guise of gossipmongering._

_"I'm **nineteen** ," Osamu exclaimed when Jianliang relayed the worries some people expressed about his disinclination to create a heir, or even to seek an acceptable romantic partner from within the base. "I don't have time for such nonsense."_

_Personally, Jianliang thought he could use some time away from everything, but far be it for him to bring it up. "It might help to appoint an heir, just in case. You do work with dangerous substances."_

_"Fine. Ken can take up the illustrious mantle of being Caesar to a bunch of ungrateful, meddling children starved for soap operas, and he's welcome to it." Osamu paused and glared at his samples. He pulled away from his microscope with the samples carefully held in one hand and took them to a ceramic sink, where he torched them to a crisp. He peeled off a layer of gloves, took the equipment to the autoclave, and left them to be sterilized. It was programmed to turn itself off once the sterilization cycle was complete, which allowed Osamu to leave the equipment to cool down overnight. "Another failure. I'm done for today."_

_Then began the decontamination dance, as Jianliang secretly thought of it. Osamu would go through multiple showers, a vacuum room, an ultraviolet light room, and more. At each point were airlocks, and Jianliang was there to ensure that should the power go out, he'd know that Osamu would need help. It took a lot of manpower to build this lab, and they were grateful that it had neared completion before the virus wiped out the adult population of Iwakuni. All it needed to get up and running was a generator and a little elbow grease to secure fixtures. This, more than anything else at Iwakuni, was a closely kept secret. When Osamu finally reached the last airlock, Jianliang left the monitoring room with picnic basket in hand._

_"You know what I need?" Osamu asked as they locked up the lab and strolled across the weed-studded tarmac of what was once an airfield. His lab was a converted airplane hangar, and thus indistinguishable from every other hangar in the field. "Better technology and more hours in the day."_

_Jianliang refrained from following up on that until they were at the control tower, which offered shade for lunch. Osamu settled onto the tarmac and leaned against the brick wall of the control tower. The shadows under his eyes were getting deeper; living a double life as Iwakuni's Caesar while also working to develop a vaccine for the virus was taking its toll. "And what would you do if you had it? Everything you needed."_

_"Map out this thing's genome, reverse-engineer it, create a version of it that retains the same capsid protein structure, and infect transgenic or hybridized plants with the second version. Alternatively, find the protein that prevents our immune system from activating and compensate for it." There was a short laugh, though humorless. "Imagine row after row of roses bred just to mass-produce the recombinant proteins needed for vaccines. Because the plants will only mass-produce the protein shells, there's no chance of infecting anyone with anything. Therefore, they will train the immune system to recognize the virus and act accordingly once encountering it. The second option… There's a protein in the virus that stops the PACT from activating — the protein activator that turns on the immune system. Once I isolate that and overexpress the PACT, I can develop a treatment for those already infected. There is a risk of inducing a cytokine storm, so obviously the patients will need to be monitored throughout the treatment, but I am confident that this thing is manageable with a two-pronged approach."_

_Jianliang stared after the older boy, who dug into the basket to pull out a strawberry as if he was discussing the weather. "Roses?"_

_"They're so highly specialized and hybridized that they've lost the vast majority of their natural defenses. Besides, it's such a trite image that I'm sure you would appreciate it, too." Osamu glanced over the strawberry and took a small bite out of it. "Mm, thank you. Always did like strawberries."_

Jianliang woke with a start as a critical bit of evidence fell from his hand to clatter on the floor. He bent to pick it up; ruggedized as it was, a short drop to a chair mat likely wouldn't have hurt the PDA. It turned on and again prompted him for a password. Another few attempts at cracking it and it shut itself off again, and Jianliang chucked it across his desk to bang into the particle board panel between the working surface of the desk and the shelf attached above it. He'd have to rip it apart later, wire it to his computer, and run his decryption program. The cell phone he hadn't touched, for he was convinced that dialing the last number would reveal himself to the would-be assassin's masters. His was a precarious position and he had to remain an enigma to everyone. He knew well enough that there were at least two factions with a vested interest in eliminating Ken, and the kerchief would have been a good enough indicator were it not for the fact that anyone could have been an imperialist back in the day and kept memorabilia. What was truly telling, however, was the lack of scarification at the back of the neck that marked the soldiers of Amaterasu. Which left him with the other faction, and he had no idea that they were ready to move so soon. It made Iwakuni's position doubly unstable. Amaterasu had superior technology, but the other faction had superior numbers. And then there was that photo used to mark Ken, which was taken much too recently for Jianliang's comfort. There was a mole out in the base, somewhere, and it was up to Jianliang to figure out who it was.

As if drawn to it, he looked up at one of the photos above his desk. In the poor light of his desk lamp, the photo of Osamu looked almost accusatory. Osamu inspired loyalty in some and anxiety in others. In Jianliang, well… he tried not to think about it. "I tried to keep him safe," he muttered to the spectre. It was late enough that he didn't feel too peculiar doing so. "Did everything you wanted, but I can't seem to succeed."

No response, of course. Not that he expected any. He packed the dead man's relics back in the evidence box and pulled out his instructions. Lemon juice made for surprisingly good invisible ink, all things considered. A little heat and it goes brown, allowing the recipient to read the contents. Instructions and a direction to change pass codes and phrases to selections in the _Bhagavad Gita._ A command that reminded Jianliang of another discussion with Osamu. "You said you surrendered your humanity to save your family," Osamu had said one day, just before disappearing. "How much will you give to save the world?" He hadn't understood, but now…

There was a scratch at his door, and he tabled the thought for later. The rice paper he tucked away, having memorized the contents. By the time he was on his feet, there was a more insistent scratch and he let Terriermon in. His partner yawned and waddled in, reeking of liquor. Had Terriermon been human, Jianliang might have been more concerned. "Busy night?"

"Very!" Terriermon lifted up his arms, which was a blatant request to be picked up. Jianliang set him on the desk, where he plopped onto his rear and leaned bonelessly against the particle board. "But I managed to wheedle something out of Armadimon. That kid, Yuusuke? He's not at all happy with Ken. Armadimon says that Yuusuke and Iori have been arguing a lot more since we came back from Watari."

He considered this information carefully and found that he wasn't terribly surprised. As much as he disagreed with Ken politically, Iori was level-headed and not prone to rocking the boat. Yuusuke, however, had always been much too passionate. "So I should expect something to come up in council meetings soon. Good job."

Terriermon puffed in that insufferably pleased way of his. Jianliang knew that Terriermon would prefer more proactive measures than playing spy, but so long as he treated it as a game, Terriermon went along with it. "There's a mole in our base. Think you can ferret them out?"

His partner's eyes brightened at the unvoiced challenge, and he stood to give a mocking salute. "You can count on me!"

"Never had a doubt about it."

Terriermon beamed at him and wished him good night. As his partner wandered off to bed, Jianliang left his quarters for the communications room. The guards paid little attention to him, for it was well within his rights to roam the corridors at night. At the room, he donned his gloves, locked the door behind him, and disabled the redundancy backup system to ensure that no record remained on his end. He punched in the address and did not bother with codes this time. _His_ voice will have to do for verification.

"This call was not scheduled."

"Emergency situation. The dolphin was shot. Lachesis took care of the sniper. There was evidence to suggest that the splinter group was behind it."

"Of course. The main group knows that Doc won't cooperate with his only incentive dead." Then a touch of concern underlined the other's next words. "Is he recovering well?"

"Punctured right scapula, rib scoring, major tissue damage. He's recovering, slowly. Medic says he should be starting light physical therapy soon."

"Anything else?"

"We have a mole that may be playing both sides. What would you suggest?"

"Search for him, but don't let him suspect that you know about him just yet. Wait for the wheel. Things here are moving faster than expected. Lachesis will be sent with further instructions when things progress beyond my capability to contain them. When things are most grim, remember my words."

 _How much will you give to save the world?_ "I understand. Just tell me when."

"I may not be here when you may be called upon to act. Use your best judgment. Goodnight."

Jianliang muttered a "goodnight" in response and closed the connection. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should have mentioned the slow change of digimon physiology to the other, but maybe it was better to keep it under wraps just yet. The less anyone knew, the better.

When he left the communications room, it was as if no one had been there in hours. Rather than return to his quarters, he made a quick detour to a set of quarters that should have been sealed for years. While it was unwise to retain any evidence of his more clandestine activities, he'd always been prone to a bit of sentiment and preferred to retain his last shreds of humanity in a place where no one would think to look.

.*.

May was waning by the time two very different vines bore fruit. The first had been a pleasant surprise, a formal visit from a couple of agents from the Rocky Country bearing an invitation. The second was a different sort of surprise. Ruki had always been dismissive of the old world and embraced the new, because no amount of begging or praying would bring back the dead. Now that she knew that things weren't supposed to be this way, she wondered. Couldn't the merging of worlds have been undone? Why not? What was so important about the future-that-wasn't that made some people remember? She'd always dismissed them as raving lunatics, but the more she listened to them, the more she wondered what was going on. In asking Takato to draw those portraits for her, she thought it might give her a clue. That he'd finished so soon had been even more surprising. He had a message sent along with a map from Satsuma's informants, and she set the map aside for another day. Raiding a warehouse full of solar panels would require planning.

The Lighthouse welcomed her warmly, and she agreed to let Fukami show her to Takato's workshop. The girl ran off soon afterwards, presumably to go to class. In the span of a month, he seemed to have settled in comfortably enough. The classroom that led to it had the artwork by his students pinned up along the walls; mostly childish scrawlings, but there seemed to be some drawn by kids with real talent. The workshop itself had a window opened wide and a soft breeze teased at loose papers. A work table was set close to the classroom-facing wall, the paints carefully sealed up in a line against the wall and brushes arranged in an old tin can. Bits of paint still clung to an old palette and dried where it had dripped across the work table and easel. There was a couch in the back, in which Takato napped with one arm dangling to the floor and the other resting across his stomach. Drying on a clothesline were the portraits, but first—

"Hey, goggle boy," she called out. Takato jerked awake and blinked up at her, then relaxed. "I thought you were done with those portraits."

Takato swung his legs over the edge of the couch and got up, stretching his limbs as he did so. He looked healthier each time she saw him, and she wondered what kind of demons had been chasing him. "Yeah, sorry. Didn't expect you until later."

He led her to the clothesline and moved the drying prints away from a series of watercolor portraits. Each portrait consisted of a child, their digimon, and a projected sketch of the adult was attached by paperclip to the paintings. Takato and herself she recognized, but not the red dinosaur-looking thing next to Takato's childhood portrait. Then there was the grey-eyed kid and his floppy-eared companion, and she studied the sketch of what he might look like now. Nothing in recent memory came to her, though a vague sense of trust worked its way into the back of her mind when she looked at the child's portrait again. Then—

"I don't actually remember the unfamiliar ones. Not really. But when I set pencil to paper, it just comes to me. You know? Like my conscious mind blocks it, but my hand's being ruled by my subconscious." Takato gave a dry chuckle and his fingers rested on the next portrait, one of a girl whose smile never reached her eyes. Next to her was a lion-man. Ruki was struck by a wave of sympathy and regret, which was bewildering in that she was sure that she'd killed off those feelings long ago. "That girl was in my class. Katou, I think. They make you sad too, huh?"

"Yeah." Best to move on, because she felt ridiculous for feeling something for a piece of paper. The next sheet looked like the Wanderer, and she moved on quickly with a flash of annoyance. The next two, though… "How do you know Hirokazu and Kenta?"

Takato blinked at her and glanced back at the portraits. "I was in school with them, but lost track of them after Shinjuku burned. Why?"

"Back when I was running with the Tonan Clan in Nara, I pulled them out of a firefight. Kenta kept spouting nonsense about knowing me from a dream or something. They've been sticking to me like limpets since. So now four of these people went to your school, right?" Ruki glanced over the remaining portraits of kids who looked much too young to be involved in digimon. A girl with pigtails and a familial resemblance to Grey-eyes, and a final portrait shared by fraternal twins. These she felt little for, but there was a sharp flash of anger when a long-dormant memory sparked in the back of her mind. It was the three-eyed human-looking digimon who caused it and she couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the lion-man.

"Five, I think. The boy with the grey eyes went to my school and was just in another class." Takato reviewed the portraits again, his expression thoughtful. "It's weird, isn't it? How so many of us came from the same place. Did you grow up in Shinjuku, too?"

"Yeah, went to the girls' academy." A stuffy, elite academy for the daughter of a stuffy, elite fashion model. She had hated it then, but she'd give anything to go back and do things over. She kicked the thought sharply away, because nothing good comes from dwelling on the past.

Takato's attention returned to the girl's portrait. "Wonder what happened…"

"Well, when you figure it out, let me know," she responded abruptly. Ruki disliked having to speculate, and thought it best to dissuade Takato from that path. Nothing good came of wallowing in daydreams, either. "Mind if I keep the projection sketches?"

"I drew them for you," Takato began as he pulled down the projection sketches from the paperclips keeping them up. When he was done, he presented Ruki with a neat stack of portraits done in pastels on hand-made paper. The paper was rough and smelled faintly of hairspray, and the edges soft and showed evidence of having been torn along the edge of a meter stick. "Are you going to try to find them?"

"Perhaps." It was important that she make the attempt, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.

.*.

It was two hours after dinner and Hida Iori found himself alone in the empty gymnasium. He had done his routine kendo exercises to clear his head, but they didn't help this time. He missed his grandfather, who would remind him often that he was being too stubborn and dropped little bits of wisdom after practice. Surely his grandfather would offer him advice to help with his current problem, but his parents and his grandfather were now gone. Armadimon tried to fill the void, but it just wasn't the same.

The irony of the situation was that Armadimon and Wormmon got along so well when their partners would end up butting their heads over everything under the sun. And, though he never publicly admitted to it, he did agree that they should come out of hiding and help out in the outside world. Unlike Ken, however, he didn't enjoy taking risks without analyzing every bit of data available. Ken flouted the rules when it suited him, a trait that always stuck in Iori's craw. He turned a blind eye to Ken's gathering of agents, even though he never approved of the subterfuge and almost Macchiavellian maneuvering, until it was too late. Now Yuusuke was arguing to propose a motion of no confidence against Ken in the next council meeting and rallying supporters among those who were scared of the outside world. Iori had tried to mitigate it and change their minds with the suggestion of a censure motion, but his ward's actions had too much traction now.

It was, on the whole, unfair. All of it. A man he'd never known had taken him from his family home during the early months of the pandemic, spirited him away to a military base under a mountain, and largely left him alone to fend for himself. The Takenouchis took him in as one of their own up until the virus killed all the adults in the mountain, too. When Osamu rose to power, Iori fell in line like everyone else, and there was comfort in the consistency of his rule. Schedules that allocated work for everyone kept them sane, as did regular meals and curfews and activities. They were nothing but children, after all. Even when the rigidity of Iwakuni's schedules and rules relaxed with Sora's influence, Iori took comfort in Osamu's laws and strictures. It gave him confidence enough that he was sure that he'd be able to take in a broken wreck of a child and raise Yuusuke the way he had been raised, even if they were only a few years apart in age. For the first few years, it had gone well enough, but then Ken started sending his agents out and Iori found it harder and harder to allay Yuusuke's fears about people from the outside coming in.

There was the soft pattering of bare feet on hardwood and Iori looked up from his practice sword. Jianliang settled before him, dressed in traditional kendo gear, and Iori was immediately suspicious. He was never entirely sure where Jianliang's loyalties lay, largely due to the man's insistence on keeping his thoughts to himself. It hadn't always been this way, and there had been a time when Jianliang had been more open with his thoughts. But things change, people grow up, and it seemed that Jianliang's role as chief of security had become his defining identity. Or, at least, one he hid behind. They got on well enough, however, that Iori never bothered to bring up the change.

"Any news on that faulty gate repair? I've heard complaints," Jianliang said, his voice as level as if he was commenting on the weather. It took Iori a moment to realize that he was actually talking about Yuusuke's discontent. While Iori remembered that Jianliang had disappeared for a year as an agent, just before his appointment of chief of security, no one but Osamu knew what he did in that year. Iori suspected spy games, because Jianliang never spoke like this before that disappearance.

"I'm looking into it. It will need more grease." The world's most oblique way to state that he was still trying to convince Yuusuke to tone it down. "It may just cause more problems at the least favorable time."

Jianliang considered him for a moment, then continued. "Ken will be importing an accessory tomorrow. A lance. It would be helpful if the gate is fixed before then."

Iori raked his mind for the key. Did Jianliang mean one of the people the agents were trying to win over? And if so, who? Nevertheless, this was unfortunate timing. There was a scheduled council meeting in the morning. "It might be prudent to tell the supplier to hold off until the gate has been attended to."

"At this point, it's unlikely that such a request would be well-received." Jianliang rose unsteadily, to Iori's alarm. He'd suspected that Jianliang had been working overtime, but he hadn't thought that it'd gone this far. The chief of security palmed his practice sword.

"Not today," Iori said abruptly as he stood. He eyed Jianliang critically; even in the dimness of the gym at night, the circles under his eyes were still noticeable. "I'm too tired to practice. It might be a good idea to head to bed early, don't you think?"

Something that might have been the start of a grimace crossed Jianliang's face, and the fact that Iori noticed it at all was telling. "I have duties—"

"Which can wait until morning!" Iori nearly threw up his hands in exasperation. The time for pretending not to notice Jianliang's advanced state of exhaustion was over. "Get out of the gym and into bed before you fall over. I'll have your things brought to you in the morning."

A glimmer of a smile tugged at a corner of Jianliang's lips, just before he dipped his head in acknowledgement and left.

.*.

It took several weeks for both Ken and Patamon to heal enough to be more or less fully functional. Had Patamon been fully biological, the gut wound likely would have been fatal. As it was, Patamon's recovery had been uncertain until his wound healed over and he was eating like normal. Ken was still on the mend, and the bullet's punch through his right scapula would take much longer than the muscle tissue to heal. As a reward for his deed, Patamon was granted time off, which meant that his team was free from outside expeditions for the extent of his recovery. The one exception to this was an escort task that didn't require his participation.

Still, Takeru would have preferred his support. Once he finally talked Ken into letting Ruki into the fold, he thought that would be the end of his involvement, He hadn't expected Iwakuni's prize team to be sent to Niigata instead, nor had he expected Ken to lob this task squarely into Takeru's lap. "She's familiar with you," Ken had said as explanation, "and she would only agree to be blindfolded by you." That had been two weeks ago.

It was a muggy morning when Takeru drove to the rendezvous point, a neglected swath of parkland north of Osaba, where a suspiciously well-kept shrine overlooked the river that provided Osaba with water. The stone fox messengers reminded Takeru of Renamon, somehow. And, waiting at the altar, was Ruki.

Without her boots and the threat of her posse, Ruki looked almost vulnerable in her threadbare t-shirt and patched jeans. When he looked closer, though, he noticed a garrotting wire wrapped around her right wrist and the Peacemaker at her hip. Ruki could take care of herself, and only a fool would underestimate her. "About time you made it. I was starting to think you jilted me."

"Doesn't that generally involve a bit more intimacy than we have?" he deadpanned. He knew well enough that she said things like this to get under the skins of others and simply played along. It was so strange how quickly they fell into this pattern.

She gave a snort of amusement as she rounded the back of his rover, climbed into Daisuke's usual seat, and settled in like she belonged there. He was surprised to see her bother with buckling in, because she certainly didn't seem the type to care. "So where's your boyfriend?"

"Daisuke," he corrected her, futile as it was, "is back at base taking care of Patamon. Strangely, he did not want to share the joy of your company. Renamon?"

"Watching the kids while I'm away. She knows I can take care of myself." The look she shot him was almost predatory, and it was then that he noticed that her nails had been filed to points. Not that he'd draw attention to them.

"How are things, anyway? Any new attempts at revolution?"

Ruki shrugged. "Just the usual mutterings of malcontents. One of the cheerleaders got pregnant and insists on making a scene about it even though I've told her repeatedly that she can take the time off or do whatever she needs to pull through for the next few months. It's just the hormones, so I've let it slide. Kenta's been—"

"Sonofa—" Takeru smacked his forehead with a palm as realization dawned on him and he felt like an idiot, causing Ruki to glance sharply at him. "'Cheerleader' is code for prostitute, isn't it? You run a prostitution ring, too?"

"They prefer the term 'sex worker'." Ruki responded dryly. "Better to have it take place where I can make sure they're safe and taken care of. It's a job like any other."

Mentally, Takeru flailed for some way to disapprove without offending her. In his experience, prostitutes were usually forced into the job one way or another. "I'm sorry, but…"

"Must be nice to have a moral compass." Ruki had that look again, the one that suggested how little she thought of his naivete. "Afraid it's a luxury most of us never had. While you were off touring with your brother or whatever, I've been trying my damnedest to keep my girls and boys safe. Men stopped hurting them once they came under my protection. The only time I see a cut any of their earnings is when they're feeling generous."

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the topic, Takeru derailed it for something safer. "May I ask something?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you ask for me, anyway? Surely any of the other agents could have served as escort."

"Because I know you. Because sometimes it's refreshing to see that this crapsack world of ours hasn't completely beaten the good out of everyone. And because that sad face you get when I beat your ideals into the ground with that pesky reality thing is so cute." She grinned and pinched his cheek, which made him roll his eyes. It was hard to resent her for it. "Now, how soon before you introduce me to your parents?"

Takeru sighed and started up the engine. For all that the trip from Osaba to Iwakuni was technically around forty-five minutes, it was sure to feel longer than usual.

.*.

Ken decided that he hated his life and everyone involved in it. The willow bark tea was doing nothing for the tension headache or the still-healing wound, he'd gotten into an argument with Sora over the necessity of keeping Mrs. Makino a secret from Ruki and then threatened to send her off with one of the agent teams to retrieve the leader of a community of naturalized Koreans who were open to an alliance, Jianliang's early warning about Yuusuke's decision to put forth a motion of no confidence had set him on edge and put him off his breakfast, and he was fairly sure that Iori had done nothing to dissuade his ward from pulling off this crap _now_. It was the worst timing possible, because all the reports regarding Ruki suggested that she would not take well to being told to stay home.

The council itself was arguing. There were supposed to be three members for the three factions of Iwakuni, totaling nine members overall ( _nine for mortal men doomed to die_ , some inane memory teased him, though he couldn't remember where he read the line). However, it was not unusual for one faction or another to try to curry votes from those still on the fence, or even go so far as to win over a seat in another party and swing the balance of power in their favor. In the event that their leader endangered the people of Iwakuni, a successful vote of no confidence would dethrone him and set the chairman as an interim leader until elections were held. Iori had held on to the post of chairman of the council for the past two years. For all Ken knew, Iori had eyes on the role of Caesar; certainly he'd been groomed long enough for it.

Jialin's eyes caught his, and she looked almost apologetic as Yuusuke rose and the arguing died down. Iori looked as if he desperately wanted to slide under the table, which he wasn't at all entitled to. Jianliang had that poker face of his on, and Ken almost wanted to strangle him for insisting on sitting on the fence. Sora was still furious with him for his threat. His innards twisted into a coil of anxiety and bitterness as he realized that the few friends he had on the council would not support him.

"Years ago, I was just another kid in a caravan," Yuusuke began. Another ploy at playing with their fears. Whatever Ken may think of him, he was good at appealing to their emotions. "We were cold and starving half the time, and filled with parasites the other half. The cities were ruled by gangs that started calling themselves Clans, after the feudal ways they only remember from samurai movies. If we wanted to eat in the cities, we had to make ourselves useful. On the road were the Raiders, who targeted communities and travelers alike. Worst of them all was the Army for a Pure Japan, who used any excuse at all to slaughter innocents. It was in the aftermath of the Nara massacre that Kai found me and brought me back here. Compared to the world outside, Iwakuni has always been a sanctuary. It was safe. On the outside, there are people who will kill each other over the slightest scrap of food, or over ridiculous ideas of race or identity. There are people out there who would kill for the joy of it. Osamu knew that when he organized this place and gave it the laws by which we live." And then Ken's jaw ached from his attempt to grind his teeth to powder. Of _course_ Yuusuke would pull the Osamu card. They always did. As far as they were concerned, his brother walked on water. "The laws and guidelines kept us safe and sane. And it is because of those rules that we have a system in place to work together for the best interests of Iwakuni. In order to protect our home, I will put forth a motion of no confidence against Ichijouji Ken. Under his rule, our very safety is threatened. Despite our protests, he flaunts his position to override the council at every turn and bring in people who were not first reviewed by the council. Not long ago, his agents brought in one of our enemies, which had invited invasion. Only the man's death turned back those helicopters. And now? Now he's bringing in one of the most notorious warlords in the region!"

Under the table and away from sight, Ken's hand on his uninjured side was clenched into a fist and the joints ached with tension. His punctured shoulder blade throbbed in pain from the force. He didn't have to look to tell that his knuckles had gone white. While Yuusuke's accusations stung with their accuracy, worse was the fact that he'd somehow found out about him bringing in Ruki. He took a stabilizing breath before responding with as much calm as he could muster. "I had actually called this meeting today to inform—"

"Inform, not consult!" Yuusuke's teeth flashed in a snarl. "You are not a _despot_ , Ichijouji, and we can't allow you to run roughshod over us."

Some infantile, jealous part of Ken wanted to point out that they were perfectly fine when it was Osamu running roughshod over them, but that would not serve him well now. "We've had Ruki under observation for years. She is not a threat."

Then Yuusuke smirked at him, and Ken knew he lost. "You want to tell that to her victims, then? To Kai's widow? You want to tell me that I was hallucinating during the Nara massacre?"

All eyes turned to Ken, and inwardly he felt as if he'd been slapped. "It isn—"

"Enough!" There was a sharp rap of wood against wood, and Jialin looked like she wanted to beat them both with her gavel. "The motion will be put to vote tomorrow. Ken, radio your agent and tell him to send Ruki back until such a time as this matter is put to rest. I am dismissing all of us before someone gets injured. Today's council session is over."

It took Ken every amount of strength he had to keep the irritation off his face as he gracefully accepted the change in his position and left the council chamber. Two of them joined him, though he did not acknowledge their presence. By the time he reached the communications room, where Shaochung worked part-time to get away from the digimon for a while, any ability he had to keep his face in check was gone. She turned in her seat to acknowledge him and practically cringed from the anger in his face.

"Put Takeru on the line. There's been a change of plans."

As Shaochung turned back to her console and punched up Takeru's vehicle frequency. Ken took the time to glance back at Jianliang and Sora. Jianliang he expected to remain neutral, but Sora's silence stung. "It would have been nice to have some sort of support."

"You know it's in your best interest that everyone knows I have only Iwakuni's safety in mind," Jianliang started, just as Sora was ready to respond. She glanced at the security chief uncertainly. Then, before she could speak, the connection clicked and Takeru's voice crackled over the radio.

"Hey, boss. I've got Ruki with me. We're on our way."

Ken glanced at Sora, and Jianliang stepped up just as he expected. "Li here," Jianliang started, and Ken hoped he knew exactly what he'd been planning. "There's been a change of plans. Orders from Yuusuke and the council. You're to stop where you are and wait for further orders."

"I didn't come all this way to be turned back now!" A woman's voice sounded over the crackling of the radio, disgruntled. "You can't just—"

Jianliang closed the connection, and Ken managed a slight smile. The devil is always in the details.

.*.

Ruki stared at the handset she'd grabbed from Takeru, surprised that anyone had the spine to hang up on her. They'd stopped at the side of the road, with a bus stop on one side and a retaining wall on the other, where the Nishiki River was forced to thrust northward by a mountain and descended southward just as sharply. The mountains loomed all around them, and they'd left the Sanyo Expressway to merge onto the Sanyo Highway, both of which were of the few roads that ran straight from Hiroshima southwards. And though the mountains obscured the view, she could smell a sea that wasn't much different from Hiroshima Bay. "They know I can figure out where I am, right? You're under one of these mountains. The marine corps air station would be too obvious."

"Mount Iwakuni. Old WWII tunnelling project turned into a secret base." Takeru looked at her thoughtfully. "You knew all this time?"

"I knew where the air station was," Ruki admitted. "Even had some of my guys over there once. But the actual Rocky County? Not until now."

Takeru's gaze shifted to some point beyond where the road veered left. She suspected that the entrance, or at least an entrance road, wasn't much further along the way. His voice had a distracted quality to it, like he was mulling over something. "Well. If we want to be technical, it wasn't the council that hired me. It was Ken, and Ken didn't issue the order."

"We may just make a bad boy of you yet." Ruki tried very hard to keep a smug little smirk off her face. It was fun to needle someone who didn't care enough about her status to take it personally.

Takeru willed his face to blankness, which wasn't helped by the fact that she could tell that he was trying not to let her win. "My digimon turns into an angel. You'll have to try harder."

He started up the rover again, and they continued on their way. Barely half a mile southbound was a T junction, where a narrow one-lane road met with the highway. There was a rusty chain blocking it off, and Takeru had to stop the vehicle to unlock and remove it. Once it was out of the way, he got back in the rover to drive the rest of the way. They drove carefully on a winding road surrounded by the bulk of the mountain, past blocked-off trail heads, until they came to a massive set of doors set into a cliff side. Takeru got out again to swipe his card, and…

Nothing. Puzzlement crossed his face and he tried again. Ruki's eyes darted around the cliff until she noticed the round, reflective surface of a camera lens half-hidden by foliage. Takeru wasn't going to get inside just by knocking, but Ruki… Ruki knew how to get attention. She climbed out of the rover and gravel crunched underfoot. She found a decently sized rock close by, picked it up, and let the heft of it settle into her palm as she considered the angle. While Ruki had never really been in sports while at school, she'd had to develop a series of survival skills. Until she built Osaba, she was good enough with throwing knives to be considered valuable to the Tonan clan. It all came back to her quickly, and she lobbed the rock at the camera lens. It cracked along the rim, just like she needed.

"Hey, you," she called out to the camera, where there was probably a microphone, too. The problem with old bases like these was that they were so easy to cripple, which was why she never seriously considered setting up house in one. "I know where you are and how to flush you out. How long do you think your water supply is going to hold out when I bring my people to dam up or poison your river? You are going to let me in, or I'll make you regret ever thinking of leaving me out!"

Takeru stared at her, dumbstruck. She gave him a good-natured punch on the shoulder on the way back to the rover, which seemed to shake him out of it. The idiot look turned sour as he rubbed his shoulder. "Was that really necessary?"

"Angel," she began as she settled back into the well-worn shotgun seat, "sometimes the only way to get what you want in life is to make a show of force. Now, sit back down while they discuss things."

He grumbled nonsense under his breath as he joined her in the rover, but he didn't seem to take it personally. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Ruki thought to continue an earlier point of discussion.

"So, what's the strangest thing you hunted?"

He glanced at her, then took a moment to respond. "Unicorn."

"I'm surprised they don't just flock to you." Really, did he expect that to go unremarked?

Before he could retort, however, the doors finally opened in a great metallic yawn, allowing them to drive inside. Afterwards was something of a blur. There was a drive down a tunnel illuminated by emergency lights, a parking area with a dozen similar rovers and a few military motorcycles, soldiers, and a holding pen they were escorted to. Takeru got dressed down by some woman with red hair for disobeying the council, though it seemed to be for show because Takeru let it slide off of him. Then Takeru left her with a quick "good luck", and two men entered in his wake. Both tall and unfairly good-looking, and smartly dressed in that way favored by businessmen of the old world. The taller one's right arm hung like some dead thing attached to the shoulder by will alone, and the shorter one had grey eyes.

"You ever grow up in Shinjuku," she asked abruptly. Takato's portrait of him was spot-on, which was even more amazing considering that he likely hadn't seen Grey-Eyes since the burning.

His eyes widened slightly, with a surprise that was almost imperceptible. "Yes, how—"

"We have a mutual friend. I'll need tea and someplace to sit to go through the details. Let's do supper." Then she turned to the taller one and offered her left hand. "Ruki, queen of Osaba. You are?"

"Ichijouji Ken," he said as his good hand clasped hers, and she noted the relief on his face when she took the initiative to force him to use it. "Caesar of Iwakuni. This is our security chief, Li Jianliang."

Her lips curled at that. Her tongue would trip over the foreign name, but… "Ken and Jen? How cute." Then her lips drew tight, underlining the sardonic tone of her words. "Not as cute as this welcome of yours. No one treats me like that and expects me to behave."

"My apologies," Ken began in that tone of voice that suggested that he had plenty of experience with smoothing over ruffled feathers. "There had been a little political upset. One way or another, it will be resolved tomorrow morning."

She slipped her right arm around his left and indicated that he should lead. Playing the extrovert when she very much wasn't one was getting tiring, and the sooner this was over with, the better. Her facade was a tool like any other, and she had to use every tool in her inventory. "One tyrant to another? So long as you live, there's always another chance. Now, what is so important that you want to ally with _us_?"

Then he explained. About how the only asset Iwakuni had was technology, about the old people who survived at Amaterasu's Cave, about the rumors of the virus resurfacing and towns being burned to contain it, about how Amaterasu was hampering every effort Iwakuni made to build up their forces, about the assassination attempt and their efforts to shift their tactics once again towards befriending the local powers. As sobering as it was, it was also quaint. In his focus on Amaterasu, he was ignoring the Empire of the Sun, which was growing powerful. He had more enemies than he suspected.

It was tempting, almost, to drop the entire thing as a bad idea. It was easy to let the Empire of the Sun and Amaterasu stare each other down, but there was an entire nation between them. Should they clash, the fall-out would affect everyone. And, as much as she'd like to dismiss Takeru's faith in Ken as another example of his naivete, there were worse people to support.

Their walk went through most of what she assumed were public access areas, and people stared when they saw her pass. It was around when he was showing her to her quarters for the night that she made the offer. "I don't trust anyone, but in this case I'm willing to take the risk. Draw up the papers once this coup is out of the way and we'll talk about this alliance."

"Good." He smiled then, and it seemed as if whatever weight he carried was lifted from his shoulders for the moment. "Once you're settled in and refreshed, there's someone I want you to meet."

Ruki cocked an eyebrow at that, but before she could get a word out, there was someone bearing down the hallway, straight for her. Her instincts kicked in just in time to avoid having an elbow in her throat, but she still caught the following blow on her shoulder and her head cracked against the wall with the impact. Even as her vision swam and her ears rang, she lashed out and dug her nails into the nearest bit of exposed flesh she could feel. He howled as she clawed through his cheek, and then he was gone and there was a thud to the ground. It took her a moment to realize that Ken had the stranger pinned to the ground in some fancy martial arts throw or another.

"Yuusuke! What the hell—"

The stranger, Yuusuke, glared at her with a hatred that could curdle the hearts of lesser people. Ruki didn't think she had one to worry about. "You! Your clan was supposed to protect us! We _trusted_ you!"

Ruki blinked uncomprehendingly at him. There was some memory in the back of her head, but her head felt like there was too much fog in it. Too much pressure in her head was bad, wasn't it? Captain Prettyboy (what was his name, again?) looked up at her in concern. He was saying… something. She shook her head, which only made the room spin and tempt her stomach to throw out everything. Ruki leaned against the wall, tried to say something scathing, and slumped into unconsciousness.

.*.

Iori sat alone in the empty council chambers to again review his options. His ward had shamed them by attacking a guest, and would wear the aftermath for the rest of his life. The rows that Ruki had managed to claw into Yuusuke's cheek and forearm had to be stitched up. After the stitching and after the opium wore off, and once Ruki had recovered enough from her concussion, Iori had managed to extract explanations and stitch the stories together. It appeared that Ruki had once been a member of the Tonan clan that claimed Nara, of which Yuusuke had been a citizen. While the clan had gathered and left temporarily to raid a warehouse in another city for supplies, the Army for a Pure Japan stepped into town and slaughtered a populace that had been primarily composed of foreigners. The Tonan clan returned to engage the Army in a firefight and turn them back, but it was too late for the victims. From what Iori understood, Yuusuke had been fortunate to survive it. However, the attack also meant that Yuusuke could no longer stand on council. He could run for his seat in later elections, but there had to be repercussions for his actions. He would not let his ward be alone.

As the council members trickled in and gave him their condolences, Iori felt his stomach sinking. He knew these people as colleagues and friends, all working towards the common good of their home. He knew, also, how the rumor mill worked. Word of Yuusuke's attack on Ruki had gotten out by lunch-time, warped when people added the legendary tale of Ruki's slaying of a man-eating tiger with her bare hands, and had gotten absurd by breakfast. They would vote to pass the no confidence vote, leaving him as interim Caesar of Iwakuni. It had never been a position he wanted.

Once they were all seated, Iori rose from a seat that had been his for the past five years. He did not want to go through with his plan, but Yuusuke had been his responsibility, and he failed. He glanced at Jialin, who opened and closed the council sessions and kept them on track and who he talked to at breakfast for an exception to the norm. She nodded, giving him her blessing to begin.

"We had been called today to take a vote of no confidence in regards to the actions Ken takes, often against council wishes and without our knowledge. Because these actions affect the well-being of our people, they must be held to the standards outlined by Osamu in his rules of order. By continuing to bring people in without our review or consent, Ken risked endangering our home." Ken's eyes narrowed at him, as if readying himself for a fight, and Iori pressed on. "What we forget is that many of us are from the outside. A system cannot evolve when it is in a constant state of entropy, but it does run the risk of stagnating and turning on itself. By introducing new blood to our population, we also introduce new ideas. That we have forgotten that outsiders may add significant value and insight to our way of life is shameful. That one of our own attacked an outsider reflects poorly on us. In light of Yuusuke's actions, I am calling for a cancellation of the vote of no confidence and will be resigning my post as chairman of the council. With your blessing, I would like to retain my post as chief of maintenance. Thank you for your time."

With that said, and his political career in shreds on the altar of honor, Iori bowed and showed himself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ken's mental commentary over the number of council members is a line from Lord of the Rings, which he hadn't read but his brother did. Takeru never actually hunted a unicorn, he's referring to the metaphor regarding chasing unicorns, which is pretty self-explanatory. Ruki's response refers to the unicorn mythos, that only a virgin can tame a unicorn. There's a reason why Ruki acts ooc: as Queen, she plays a certain role, and that role involves getting under peoples' skin in order to coax reactions from them that she can use for later analysis because people reveal their true selves when provoked. Left to her own devices, she'd rather be at home playing solitaire and glower at people.


	18. Amity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the local powers gather to create an alliance, Jianliang's exhaustion finally causes a severe lapse in judgment that may just be his downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Meant to release this a week ago, at most. However, I've been sick and not really in the best frame of mind to write some of these scenes. You'll see. My apologies.

Eleven hours! The entire ride took _eleven_ mind-numbing _hours_ , even when they were driving well over speed limits that didn't matter anymore down highways and expressways cleared off and patched up by various people. Maybe they might have made it in eight hours without stopping for breaks, but they had to refuel and Mimi had two cranky children with her. Only one of them was actually acting his age. She was cranky, too, but she didn't have the liberty to act on it. At least her hair didn't need much tending to once they finally arrived.

Her fault for underestimating the agents when they said that the trip was going to be nine hundred and fifty-something kilometers, really. She'd forgotten how big the world was outside her castle. At least the agents had the wherewithal to escort her in a nice luxury car and had a nice assortment of music CDs. At first she'd gotten everyone to participate in a sing-along, then they got tired of that and traded stories. By the third hour, when they were all bored, Sanin finally managed to fall asleep and she and Palmon followed soon afterwards. Then there were a few breaks where Akari and Taiki switched off on driving, or someone had to use the bushes. But overall it was _boring_. So, by the time they parked inside this giant man-made cave and Taiki was so gentlemanly as to deal with her luggage himself, she was ready to charm anything. 

Her strappy, coral-pink kitten heels clacked on the concrete as she stood and stretched her legs, and she felt oddly self-conscious. After spending her adulthood in kimonos of varying styles and quality, the pale pink-and-green-on-cream sun dress she had to wear out of necessity felt oddly revealing. And oddly freeing. As much as she loved her beautifully-patterned kimonos and the accessories she wore with them, they didn't allow much movement. Still, a girl had to at least try to be presentable, and the heels went well with a set of simple carnelian jewelry she'd found long ago. Her one concession to tradition was the golden chrysanthemum obidome with a single ruby set in the center, which she attached to her necklace of carnelian beads. She brought her traditional houmongi, of course, but it was carefully packed in the trunk and dedicated for tomorrow, when all the leaders met. Or, at least, those that Iwakuni could cobble together. 

To be honest, Mimi wanted nothing to do with any war or the preparations that came with them. But the Digital World taught her that sometimes, refusing to act was pretty much the same as silent consent to whatever evils were happening. So she organized under the recommendations of several people, agreed with whatever was needed, disagreed if she thought any requests might have negative repercussions for her people. And all of it was done while pretending she was someone else. 

Of course, she never would have conceded to the idea of pretending to be the wife of a non-existent shogun if people didn't dismiss her because of her looks, or her preference for peace and goodwill. It had been Ryo's idea, years ago when Shibata was still just a farming community and he was trying to lay down the groundwork for rebuilding the nation out of some bizarre guilt complex he never explained. She protested, they argued, and then they talked, and eventually came down to a consensus just when there was just enough activity going on for Ryo to start whispering in people's ears in regards to a man who was related to the royal family who was working through Mimi and supposed to be behind the slow rise Shibata to a respectable nation-state. He'd arranged a marriage for her, with Keiko in the ceremonial armor and difficult to make out under the make-up and mask, and people only started questioning the marriage when a few years passed and she had no offspring from it. It had been something she struggled with, because she wanted the love that her parents had for each other, but in the end she pestered Ryo about contributing genetic material because this was all his fault _anyway_ and he eventually conceded. 

Not that she ever regretted it. Sanin was a delight. the apple of her eye, and all the usual things loving mothers think about their children. But there was a brightness in him that she tried to keep hidden for fear of him being treated more differently than he already was. His ability to memorize and recall things was much greater than her own, and he showed an alarming talent in obfuscation and subterfuge, and had an understanding of political complexities that was beyond her. Mimi wanted to blame his father, who showed his affection by gifts of audiobooks and attempts to protect him from a past like Ryo's by teaching him to recognize manipulation and subtext, but she never quite got up the spirit to do so. Sanin had found his talent at an age when she had been more concerned with getting her father to join her for imaginary tea with all her stuffed toys, which was as amazing to her as it was disconcerting. However, she was determined to support him no matter what, which was why he was traveling with her to witness the political process first-hand. 

But first she had to get him out of the car. Mimi peered into the back seat, where her baby had dozed off and used Palmon for support. Palmon shook him awake, or at least tried to. "Sweety, we're here," she called out in her best sing-song voice. "Don't you want to come meet Aunt Sora? She's been very anxious." 

"It's not going to stink this badly, is it?" 

For the moment, Mimi was perplexed. Then she took a deep breath and realized that she'd been so used to the scent of motor oil and gasoline that the trace of it in the parking area didn't bother her. Sanin, however, was born in a time when the machines that required them were either broken down or useless due to lack of supplies. "Surely not! This is the parking garage, I think." 

"It smells better inside," Akari said in a soft, reassuring tone. She had been a huge help on the trip, both with helping Mimi with Sanin's initial motion sickness by providing an acupressure bracelet and showing Mimi how to set it, and by sacrificing a clean old handkerchief by dabbing it with peppermint oil ever so often for her son to breathe through. "The air inside all comes from the top of the mountain and gets filtered by the air conditioning system. The air in here vents out to the foothills. We even have a garden, if you'd like to visit." 

Sanin still looked distrustful, but he scooted to the edge of the car seat and used his cane to judge the distance from the car floor to the concrete below. Mimi stayed close just in case he wanted help, but she knew better than to just lift him out. He hated being coddled to, for one thing, even if he didn't show it. Once he was actually out of the car, he scrunched up his nose in disapproval of the odor. "How did people stand this?" 

"We were born in a time when there were so many cars and things that we never minded it." Mimi replied. She brushed the hair from his face, which would only fall into it again later. It was a signal, subtle and innocent to those who wouldn't recognize it. To her son, it meant that she was there if he needed her. His free hand went up, and she grasped it gently. He wanted her guidance. 

"The water tastes better now," Palmon thought to add as she followed Sanin out of the car. She padded to his side, like she always did. "It didn't back then." 

There was a bang, and Taiki had the grace to look sheepish. He'd slammed the trunk, having finished unloading it. "Er. Sorry. Why don't you go ahead. I'll get a cart and have these in your quarters." 

She smiled sunnily at him and couldn't do much more beyond saying thanks, because Akari was waiting at the entrance. Before she had Sanin, she never would have noticed the tripping hazards in their path. Now it was second nature to note them and murmur anything he might have trouble with in a tone only he could hear. The entrance door led to a holding room, where she noticed a couple of old friends at about the same time that Palmon did. Neither had been seen since Sanin's third birthday. 

Palmon shrieked with delight and darted forth to wrap her arms around Piyomon's neck, and the momentum ended up toppling them both over and into a giggling heap. Mimi was a little more sedate. She gave her son's hand a squeeze, indicating that she'd be back shortly, and let it go to greet Sora with a tight hug and grinned when she felt Sora's arms around her. They parted moments later, but not before Mimi made Sora laugh by bouncing a little on her heels. 

"Sora," she began in a sing-song voice. "It's so nice to see you!" 

Sora, who grew up to be stately and matronly in a way that Mimi could never pull of, smiled back. "Mimi! It's been so long! And Sanin, you're so big now!" 

"Thanks." He gave a slight smile, and Mimi went to take his hand again. Her other hand ended up slung around Sora's waist. 

"Now then, we've been on the road for _eleven_ whole _hours_ ," Mimi exclaimed. "I hope you were serious about that offer for supper!" 

Akari coughed delicately in an attempt to avoid rudeness. "At this hour, you'll have the cafeteria mostly to yourselves. Why don't you catch up there?" 

Mimi, being much too happy with her reunion to take it personally, chuckled and let Akari lead the way. 

.*.

Ruki was waiting in the cafeteria and nursing a small cup of sake when Ken finally came for her. After nearly having her head bashed in by sheer luck, she'd spent the night under medical observation and the following day being escorted around by Sora and then passed off to Jen's little sister. After their first meeting, Jen seemed to go out of his way to avoid her, which she didn't quite understand, but she wasn't terribly surprised. She weighed the risks and the terms in her paperwork, debated with Ken over some small detail or another, and then ended up with something she didn't hate signing her name to. He would send techs to help her getting Hiroshima's municipal water facilities back online, which would add to Osaba's overall value and cut down on labor. Water runners would be trained in running the facilities, which left them in need of money in lieu of the barter system that had functioned well enough before. She faced the same problem with the electricity she'd been planning to develop once she had those solar panels installed. It was something that would have to be addressed should Ken somehow manage to unite more than the single handful of allies he had now. He would also provide some lieutenants to help her establish a more orderly peacekeeper corps. In exchange, she would provide what food and information she could. Hiroshima had been established on a river delta because the delta was the only flat land available in a part of Japan that was mostly mountainous, and there wasn't that much farming land available. What she did have were fishing boats and foothills terraced before the gasoline ran out on the tractors and backhoes. That was another thing added to the treaty process: a promise of agricultural support by providing equipment to help her rip up the concrete and pull up river silt for soil. Honestly, it was enough to make her want to quit. Given that that meant surrendering to people who hated her or didn't think she was strong enough for the role she made for herself, she'd drink instead. 

"I'd be tempted to join you if the night wasn't so young," Ken said, a slight smile on his face. It tried and failed to cover up the exhaustion and the slump of his shoulders. He took on too much himself, and it showed. 

Without a word, she knocked back what she had and poured out another cupful of the warm, milky sake. This she shoved into his face; he needed it much more than she did. "Drink up, kid. The stress will kill you if you let it." 

"Technically, I'm older than you," he retorted, but accepted the cup with his good hand, anyway. Not that he actually did anything with it. 

"Technically you haven't had enough experience with opportunistic leeches and hecklers if you let one coup attempt get to you." And there was something about an assassination attempt, but she wasn't _quite_ heartless enough to bring that up. "So yeah, I have more experience with governing than you do. Sooner or later, bottling things up will only make it worse for you down the road. Don't let the bastards win by caving to that pressure in front of them." 

He sighed, his fingers carefully rolling the cup back and forth. "It's hardly the same." 

"No. I spent years building a city from scratch and looking out for myself because no one else will. I've had people try to take over on a regular basis. I've gotten sick more times than I can count from one botched poisoning attempt or another. I've had to stomp out a patchwork revolution at one point." He had the grace to wince, and she pressed on. "You know what makes us different? This place was handed to you, and instead of keeping to yourself like any other smart despot, you try reaching out. Even when someone _shot you_ , you keep trying to reach out and make things for the rest of us better. I was satisfied with keeping Osaba well enough off to keep the people content. But you? You have ambition. This plan of yours to unite us and create an actual nation is a ridiculous gamble in an age when it's everyone for himself, but you're just noble enough and self-sacrificing enough to make it worth the risk." 

He stared at her, wide-eyed over her pronouncement, and started stammering in embarrassment. In an act of kindness, she turned to cap up the bottle of sake and moved on. "Drink up and we'll go see that person you wanted me to meet. And keep the bottle. You need it more than me." 

"Thank you," Ken muttered sheepishly, and coughed from the sting of alcohol moments after swallowing the little he had. Clearly not used to it. The cup he set on the little tray, which would be picked up by cafeteria workers later on. "I think you might want to keep it until after the meeting." 

Ruki made a scoffing noise, but tucked the bottle close as he led her down corridors and staircases. The trek was long and did marvels for clearing the alcohol from her system, and eventually the lights gave way to dimness only alleviated by weak emergency lighting that Ken had to flip on. He had to swipe a security card through readers at several doors, and it was too dim for her to make out the keypad he punched numbers into. Finally, he led her to a dark half-room. The far wall was divided in half horizontally, and the brightness of the light in a room beyond the glass almost blinded her. There was a woman there, but Ruki shut her eyes tight to keep from looking at her. 

"Ken?" No. It was just a hallucination. The sake must have gone bad. The woman's voice did _not_ sound like one she hadn't heard in fifteen years. "Did you bring her?" Voices can sound alike, right? 

"Like I promised." Ice ran down Ruki's spine and pooled into a burning weight in her stomach as she fought against recognizing who the woman was. Her eyes watered with the force of her denial, and her knuckles went white as her nails bit into her palms and drew blood. 

There was a shuffling and the woman spoke again. "Ruki, dear, I can't see you when you're in the dark. Please let me see you." Despite every fiber in her being wanting to take her and bolt back to a world that was comfortable in its apathy and casual cruelty and had no mothers for her to care about, she remained rooted to the spot. 

Ken's fingers alighted on her shoulder and she shrugged them off with a punch to his bad shoulder that quickly followed. The hiss of pain was gratifying, in a way, but she couldn't think of anything more to do as retaliation for this shock. Misgivings screamed at her with every step she took into the light, until finally she sensed the light behind her eyelids and blinked away the tears that threatened to form. Behind the glass was a semi-circular room that divided into three sections past a few square feet. The first section was open, a kitchenette with a refrigerator and sink, cabinets and a rolling kitchen island. The second section had a curtain half-drawn across the entrance to it for privacy, but she could spot part of a bed and dresser from what view the curtain allowed. The third section was blocked off with the single door closed, probably a toilet and bath area. There was a television and laserdisc player on a rolling cart playing some old soap opera or another, on mute. At a table shoved up against the viewing window, with a Lego castle under construction on top of it, was her mother. 

Ken said... something, she didn't care. But her mother nodded and the door closed, and Ruki was left clinging to her sake bottle like it was her only anchor to reality. She tried and failed to come up with something to say. Nothing had ever prepared her for something like this. The bottle was warm and hard against her ribs, against old scar tissue from some fight or another. If she hadn't been completely stunned, she might have taken a swig straight from the bottle. It was tempting. What does one say to the supposedly dead? 

"They say you killed a tiger once," her mother said, as delicately as if she thought she might be stepping on thin ice. Ruki relaxed, slightly. 

"He was limping and starving." Her free hand drifted to the shoulder that still bore the scars of the tiger's teeth, rubbing at the ghost of the pain inflicted by the bite. Between her fear and the tiger's starvation, that she'd had the wits to make it out alive was still something she considered serendipity. "He just didn't see the rod when he pounced. There wasn't much contest." 

Her mother looked at her again and Ruki couldn't quite meet her eyes. Next to the glamorous fashion model, she was battle-scarred and world-weary. There was a thin line of a scar from her jaw to the lowest dip of her cheekbone, a relic of a knife fight for dominance in a clan. Tiger teeth left their mark in her shoulder. Bullet wound in one thigh, failed attempt at hamstringing on a calf, a few knife scars of varying ages along her ribs, and a nasty gash on a shin left by razor wire. The bruises faded long ago, but she remembered what it was like to be strangled, or to have ropes burn her skin with their chafing. She remembered what it was like to convulse from strychnine poisoning. All these things she considered mere marks of a life lived trying to stay alive, reach the top, and then maintain her position as queen of the mountain. When she was too deep in the bottle, she often thought it almost comical how much her life might have resembled some melodramatic manga or other. But in front of her mother, she felt almost... ashamed. Impure. In another world, Makino Ruki would never know how greasy someone's innards could be, or the kick of a rifle against her shoulder, or what it was to be so great a target that she had to harden herself to the threats lurking among people she should trust. She steeled herself for judgment or rebuke, for something to revive the feelings she tamped down for years. 

"Oh, Ruki, dear. I'm so proud of you." 

That brought her up short. Ruki stared at her mother, unsure of how to respond. The tension was driving her nuts, as if some deep, dark part of her wanted her mother to disapprove of her life choices. Which was honestly ridiculous given that she was no longer a teenager. "But Mom," she said quietly; perhaps something would shatter if she spoke any louder. "I've killed people." 

"Did you enjoy it?" Her mother's voice was just as quiet and delicate. There was white in her hair, which was still as impeccable as Ruki remembered. Perhaps a few lines, but hardly anything that marred her beauty. She wanted more than anything to break the glass and drag her mother back into the world. 

"No." Subconsciously, her hand went to the string of tiger's teeth. Her juzu; thirty teeth for thirty sins, to remind her to never look back. "Someone has to protect those who can't protect themselves." 

Rumiko gave a slight smile. "Then I'm still proud of you." 

Ruki had to blink rapidly then, there was something stuck in her eyes and she had to look away, and there was a strange lump forming in her throat. She turned her attention to the control computer, it was safer that way. "So how do I get you out?" 

"I can't come out," her mother stated, simply but firmly. "I still have the plague." 

That took her aback, because there were either survivors, or there weren't. But it explained why there had been men in black at her house asking where her mother was, just before she disappeared. "How?" 

"I'm what's called an asymptomatic carrier. No one has figured out yet how I'm not dead." Ruki glanced up to see a wry look on her mother's face. "But everyone I touch dies, so I have to stay in here. It's really not so bad." Then there was a smile that jarred against the reality of her situation. "All my basic needs are met and I don't even have to work." 

Despite herself, Ruki gave a dry chuckle and pressed her forehead against the cool, smooth surface of the glass that separated them. "You don't know how much I missed you, Mom." Her reserve cracked and tears dropped on the panel below, and she was too spent to care. 

There was a short, unever series of clicks and Ruki looked up to see her mother's fingernails tap against the glass in an attempt to reassure her. An echo of the times when she was young and her mother would reassure her by holding her close and stroking her head. Her mother looked at her hands as if she was lost, then sighed and forced a smile. "I missed you too, dear. Why don't we get caught up?" 

.*.

In the uproar over the attack on Ruki and the subsequent removal of two council members, and then much less eventful visits by another few heads of states by the evening, Iori had forgotten about his makeshift dojo in the gym. While it hadn't helped his productivity, he did end up taking Armadimon's advice to take more free time for himself. Yet, even without his place on the council, there was so much to do. The HVAC system needed maintenance to continue running smoothly and he had to write up a formal requisition for refrigerant, the new visitors enjoyed their running water so much that it was putting an unexpected strain on the plumbing, there were work orders to prioritize, the ducts would soon need their annual cleaning and the vehicles their monthly check-up, there was a broken floor tile in a high-traffic area that had turned into a tripping hazard, and so on. His students understood, and most of them were entirely too busy to care. 

Which was why, when it was time to close up the gym, Iori was surprised to find one of the lockers still in use. He told Armadimon to wait for him, then took note of the number and went to the log book mounted in front of the former coach's office that became his backup maintenance office when he needed to be alone to do paperwork. Jianliang's name and assigned combination lock was written in that tight script of his, and Iori mentally smacked himself for forgetting that he'd intended to fetch Jianliang's things before the council fall-out. He unlocked his office, flipped on the lights on the way in, passed work orders that still needed to be assigned and key cabinets mounted on the walls, and stepped around a toolbox to get to the book of combination codes for the locks. It took him very little time to find and memorize the numbers, and he was soon back in the men's locker room. Armadimon took the lock for him as he gathered up Jianliang's clothes. 

"Guess Jen was too tired," Armadimon said as he fiddled with the lock. "He doesn't usually leave his things." Armadimon should know, he took it upon himself to keep track of locker and lock assignments. 

Iori hummed thoughtfully as he finished unpacking the locker. "He did look like he was going to faint." Then he moved to close the locker-- 

Something shifted and fell from a trouser pocket, and Armadimon darted in to catch it before it hit the floor. Instead, the lock hit the floor with a clatter, and neither of them cared. What mattered was the bulky satellite phone that fell out of Jianliang's clothes. Iori stared at it, wide-eyed. He had his suspicions about Jianliang, but they were never based on anything of substance. 

Armadimon's voice was low and worried, which was unusual for him. "We need to report this to Ken." 

Discomfort twisted Iori's stomach to knots; he had no great loyalty to Ken, and Jianliang existed on the margins between friend and acquaintance. He had always believed in doing the right thing, the good thing, but now he was torn. Revealing one would betray the other. 

"Maybe it's something Jen can explain," Armadimon offered helpfully, but there was a lingering doubt in his voice that Iori easily picked up on. "There would be no problem then, right?" 

Iori grimaced at the simplicity of the statement, and yet... Armadimon had a point; it really could be that simple. If there was no wrongdoing on Jianliang's part, he'd be able to explain upon questioning. If there was, then there was a distinct possibility that they had a critical security breach. Either way, he would have to go to Ken, which he wasn't looking forward to so soon after surrendering his seat on the council. 

.*.

There were times when Daisuke enjoyed his new life. There was food, shelter, actual working toilets, and running water. Movie nights were on Friday, and some of the maintenance crew would wheel out a projector and play the movie of the week on a far wall in the cafeteria area and set up speakers between tables. If he was so inclined, he could go to the library, check out a couple of headphones for himself and V-mon, and watch something on one of the TVs available in the media rooms. If he ever wanted to retire as an agent, there were fishing crews and hydroponics farmers willing to take in another, or he could take an apprenticeship under any of the craftspeople in the maintenance crew. He could even assist Shaochung with digimon caretaking if he wanted to, and he'd been tempted more than once. Yet, there was also a part of him that craved the open air and the freedom to roam where he liked. There were always new people to meet on the outside, and new experiences. 

After a month off, Daisuke was itching to get outside and on the road again. He wasn't quite desperate enough to join Takeru in escorting Ruki, but he'd be tempted if this went on any longer. So far, he had even lucked out in avoiding running into Ruki. While he was a forgiving person, Ruki seemed to delight in getting under people's skins and he hated that. Which was why he was on his way to talk to Ken. Maybe he could bag a nice, low stress road trip for his team after Ruki went back home, like a salvage run. Salvaging generally didn't get them shot at if they plan it right, he was better than Takeru at picking locks, and the digimon largely treated it as a game. 

That plan ended up getting tabled fast once he approached the door to Ken's office and noticed that Ken was drinking with Takeru. As Daisuke had never seen him drink anything stronger than tea, he wondered what was going on. The two humans were seated around that table with the glowing Japan-centered map, with a clay pot of something alcoholic sitting between them. It had a sticker on it -- sky blue and ocean blue split the sticker in half horizontally, and three stars of gold, red, and white were placed along the horizon. Whatever it was, it came out of Ryukyu. Ken's face looked red and splotchy, the way some people did when they drank too much, while Takeru patted his arm reassuringly and Wormmon looked like he was trying to snuggle Ken's leg to death. Daisuke was starting to wish he hadn't left V-mon and Patamon behind, because digimon tended to brighten up a room when there were two or more of them together. This scene could use some levity. 

"Knock, knock," he began, just after taking a breath to prepare for resuming his role as class clown. He injected a whine into his voice for emphasis. "Don't tell me you guys decided to throw a party and didn't invite me." 

A touch of relief crossed Takeru's face, and he nudged an empty chair out with his foot. "Well, _now_ it's a party. Join us." 

The comment made Daisuke grin, even though he knew that it was largely for Ken's sake. He took the chair, turned it backwards, and leaned over the back as he straddled it. In the process, he ended up bumping knees with Ken, who didn't seem to notice. "Don't get into drinking competitions with this guy," he stated to Ken with a feigned gravitas in a stage whisper that was usually met with laughter in his poker group. "He's like a quarter French and has a genetic advantage over us. You'll be under the table before he's tipsy." 

Takeru grinned and raised his cup to Daisuke. His secret was so prosaic that Daisuke wondered why so few people did it: hangovers were a symptom of the dehydration that came with drinking alcohol, and the alcohol hit harder on an empty stomach. With enough rice and water in his stomach beforehand, Takeru generally lasted a lot longer than anyone he might try to get answers out of in bars. "Not my fault you can't hold your liquor." 

"Not my fault you're a dirty cheater," Daisuke shot back, ending with the tip of his tongue between his teeth 

Takeru knocked back the liquor with ease. He grinned and his voice took on a terribly fake French accent. "Yeah, well, your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries." 

Daisuke didn't quite get the reference, but the sudden cackling from Ken made the confusion worth it. While Ken was trying to catch his breath, Wormmon tugged at his trouser leg and offered a spare cup. Daisuke took it with a quick thanks, and moved to fill it. The alcohol was clear and so strong that the smell almost knocked him out. He brought it to his lips and instantly regretted it. Not because of the flavor, because it tasted pretty good for hard liquor, but because of the strength. "Crap, Takeru, are you trying to kill our livers? What the hell is this?" 

" _Kusu awamori_ ," Ken said slowly, careful to pronounce the Ryukyu words right. "Aged five years. Present from Ryukyu delegation. Never touched it before now." 

A grimace crossed his face before he thought better of it. The pot had "86 Proof" written on one of the labels, and he hoped desperately that it wasn't one of those awamori varieties with pickled snakes in it. "So what's the occasion?" 

With a sudden glower, Ken pulled something out of a pocket and slid it across the table. It was an old satellite phone, notable by its antenna and bulk. "Iori found this in Jianliang's things at the gym. Said Jen had been so tired that he forgot to go back for it." 

Takeru picked it up, and hs eyes widened as the push of a button brought it to life. "This still works. Has a charge and a satellite connection. Are you sure it's not from the sniper?" 

"I'm sure," Daisuke interjected suddenly. He'd gone through the sniper's things, and the cellphone was very different from this thing Takeru was handling now. "Looks nothing like what I found." 

Ken took it from Takeru and regarded it for a moment with some mix of anger and betrayal. Then he punched some things and there was an actual dial tone sounding from this thing that shouldn't still be working. Daisuke nearly jumped, and Takeru startled badly when there was the sound of the call connecting and someone picking up. 

"Hello?" An older voice, possibly middle-aged. Daisuke was sure he'd gone white with shock, and Takeru didn't look much better. Ken opted to cling to his rage, instead. "Mr. Wong?" 

Then Ken, who was thinking better than either of them at the moment, disconnected the phone and threw it across the room with his good hand. It impacted hard enough against the wall that the case cracked, and parts spilled out upon a secondary impact with the floor. This caused Wormmon to jump and skitter back a bit. Silence descended, as thick and choking as miasma, as they tried to figure out what to say. 

"We can't have him know that we know," Takeru said at last. "Not yet." 

Daisuke toyed with the now-empty cup. If it was just him, he'd barge in on Jianliang somewhere and demand answers. Barring that... "Go through his quarters and see if there's anything incriminating?" 

Ken scrubbed his face, which only made the redness worse. "He wouldn't leave anything in his quarters. He's too paranoid." 

"Does he have any friends," Daisuke thought to ask. Takeru, who had probably underestimated the strength of the awamori and drunk half the pot, propped his chin up with the palm of his hand and looked to be close to nodding off. 

"Once every few years, he attempts dating someone," Ken started, his eyes on his own empty cup. "But he wouldn't tell them anything, either." 

Something about that got Takeru's attention, but he didn't say whatever was on his mind. Wormmon inched over to Ken's side and tugged his trouser leg. "Terriermon says Jen goes somewhere at nights sometime. He said he always thought it was to work on something, but maybe..." 

"Maybe we can get a few eyes on him," Takeru murmured, though he was close to nodding off. Ken didn't look much better. "Have the sneakier agents follow him around." 

Upon noticing that both men were close to done for the night, Daisuke ushered Wormmon over and asked for water. Wormmon, who seemed grateful for something to do, scurried off to a cabinet. While Wormmon was busy with that, he announced an end to the night. "Okay, kids. Wormmon will be back with some water, and then we're all heading off to bed. Ken, where are your quarters?" 

Ken waved vaguely in the direction of the corridor. "Hallway. First door on-- Ugh, sorry, no. That's Osamu's." His face looked pensive, or at least as pensive as it could given how drunk he was. "Second door on the right. I was supposed to take Osamu's quarters when he died, but Jen went all weird about it. Said we should seal it in case Osamu came back, out of respect. But Osamu would have been back years ago if he was still alive, right?" 

Then it was as if a lightbulb went off over all of them at once, though Daisuke thought his might have been first. "Where else would he hide his secrets than somewhere everyone thinks is off limits?" 

Ken rose quickly, then grimaced and slumped back into his chair. Wormmon took the opportunity to hand Daisuke a carafe of water, which he took with a quick "thanks" and poured them all cups of water to prevent hangovers. Takeru took his without comment, while Ken stared at his. "We'll go through Osamu's quarters in the morning," Daisuke began. "But first you need water so you don't end up too hung over, okay?" Then Ken mumbled and started sipping. Takeru, who was working more out of habit than cognition at this point, poured himself a... third? fourth? cup of water. It'd be a few more before anything resembling clarity returned to his eyes. Daisuke took the time to get up and clean up, because apparently he was the only responsible adult at the moment and it was so weird. But Jianliang's betrayal seemed to be the last straw on the camel's back, and it was best that Daisuke cleared things out before anyone noticed Ken cracking. 

Takeru stood, if a little unsteadily. Ken looked like he needed help, so Daisuke slipped around to his good side and slung Ken's arm over his shoulders. Ken was taller than him, so he wasn't that much help, but this was the best he could do just then. Wormmon inched ahead of them, and Takeru held open the door as they crossed the short distance to Ken's quarters. Wormmon managed to scale up the wall and unlock the door, which let him barge through to offload Ken onto his bed, which was impeccably neat and had probably been turned down by Wormmon at some point. Wormmon thanked him and stayed behind to tuck Ken in, and Daisuke went back and grunted when he noticed that Takeru had flopped onto the couch and nodded off. Ken he could excuse for the fact that Ken generally didn't drink, but he would not let Takeru live this down. 

.*.

Mimi sat, prim and proper as can be, at a round table in what she heard was the council chamber. Sora had helped her with her houmongi, and Sanin briefed her on the attendees and what to expect from each of them. It was sobering, sometimes, when he talked like he was an adult. He would talk of political ramifications for each move she might make one minute, then ask for another piece of mochi the next. Just the night before, after her reunion with Sora, he'd mapped out her options for her and explained each in detail. Though his presence had been protested by several people, the rest ignored him, which left him the freedom to listen to the thoughts behind their words and make suggestions to Mimi when they had the time to themselves. 

To her right, past Sanin, was Ruki of Osaba, who had a fearsome reputation. Mimi didn't think she was that terrible, though -- there was something beautiful hidden under the hardened outer shell. Then there was Katsuharu of Firefly Village, Takuya speaking for some of the Ainu clans that mostly traded through Honshu, Ken, a representative from a confederation of various zainichi enclaves, someone from Ryukyu, a couple of merchants who looked out of place, and Hikari at her left. Hikari she'd had a lovely reunion with earlier that morning, but the others she knew only in passing and from the things Sanin picked up from their spies. What really perplexed her were the two merchants, Hideaki and Kiichi. One was proposing the revival of Japan's rail system, and the other supported him. Sanin had suggested that they might be there to throw their support in for infrastructure rebuilding. Were the local powers to consolidate, it would allow for the establishment of a monetized economy and the potential to connect them all by rail. Sanin cautioned against letting the merchants get too powerful, citing the railroad barons of North America during the industrial period, and she kept it in mind. 

There were arguments, of course. There had to be, because each of them was largely trying to do what was best for their people and they did not always agree on what might be the right path. Some of them were silver-tongued orators, others were more plain-spoken. It was headache-inducing and she wanted to go home and play games with her son that had less to do with politics and more to do with just plain, simple fun. At home, she would have Palmon for some relief, but her partner was with the other digimon, Takeru, and Sora. How Sanin could remain interested through hours of this, she had no idea. But, bless him, he understood enough to help keep her eyes on the greater goal of reuniting Japan. Maybe she might even forgive Ryo for giving their son the audiobooks that allowed him to understand these things now. 

Eventually, just a few hours after lunch, they all managed to beat out a series of agreements that were quickly written up into a codified constitution. It would be presented to an assembly at Kyoto in a week's time, and Iwakuni would provide transportation to everyone who needed it. Despite the high tensions and arguments throughout the hours they spent over the document, it appeared to her that they were all happy with the end results. 

.*.

They had to wait until after the gathering of powers and when Jianliang was otherwise occupied before Ken could unseal Osamu's quarters. He should have been pleased that they managed to come to enough agreements to write up a constitution, but Jen's potential betrayal weighed too heavily on his mind. He had to rope Iori into the task of unlocking the door, largely because Iori had access to the master keys and they would prefer not to make a scene about entering what should have been off limits. Iori let him in and left, largely due to discomfort over the whole matter. Wormmon was at his side, ever loyal in a way he was started to suspect that humans never were. He'd wanted to do this with the least amount of fuss, which meant leaving everyone else out of it. Everyone except the other two humans who had been with him when he'd realized what was going on, and only because he needed the manpower to go through his brother's quarters quickly. 

After several years, it should have been dusty inside. Someone had taken the time to maintain the place regularly, and the mess of research materials and other paraphernalia was neatly arranged to make clean-up easier. There was a couch where he remembered watching movies with his brother and their friends in the early days, before Osamu got to be too busy to bother. Neatly folded on the couch was a faded brown haori with a leaf pattern in the weave, which Ken didn't remember his brother ever wearing. There was the tea set on the bar separating the living room from the kitchenette that was free of the smallest speck of dust, the small dining table with its two chairs and an unfinished game of Go on its top, bookshelves filled with research material, and palm-sized mineral samples that served as accents. Ken didn't remember his brother being all that into geology, but Osamu kept so much to himself in his last years that he was a stranger to everyone. The closet still had clothes, the bed was made, and the bathroom was just as spotless as everything else. 

"Hey Ken," Daisuke called out. He went back, where Takeru was digging through a cabinet, Wormmon was sorting through notes, and Daisuke was looking at the bookshelves. "Was your brother ever into Chinese literature?" 

Curious, Ken joined him at the furthest end of the bookshelf, which he'd often ignored as a child because he'd always been more interested in bothering his brother for attention than browsing the shelves. A handful of literature books were hidden between larger physiology books and atlases. "The Collected Works of Hiraga Gennai", _Bian er chaai_ , a few Ming dynasty poetry collections, Mishima Yukio's _Confessions of a Mask_... It was just incongruous enough that he started pulling out volumes. Wedged between the pages of _Bian er chaai_ were letters, scores of them, brown lettering on rice paper in varying stages of disrepair. These he pulled out with his weak hand in order and set aside in a stack in Daisuke's outstretched hands. Takeru pulled out and opened "The Collected Works of Hiraga Gennai", which had holes cut into the paper that held Sony NT cassettes. Ken's heart sank as he read the notations on each cassette. Council meetings and private discussions. _Confessions of a Mask_ hid personal notes written in a language that was illegible to him, but looked something like early Chinese oracle bone script. There were more notes in the Ming dynasty poetry collections. His shoulders ached and slumped with dismay as the weight of their discovery settled onto them. Jen, who had been his friend and ally even when all he had was Wormmon, had been spying on them for years. He wanted to be angry, disappointed, anything other than feeling like his world had been pulled out from under him, but all he could manage was dismay and defeat and a distinct wave of nausea. 

A hand settled on his good shoulder, and there was forced cheerfulness in Daisuke's voice. "It _could_ be nothing. We all know he's paranoid, right? This is probably just his way of obsessing about things." 

Rather than answer, Ken returned his attention to the letters. He took one and almost wanted to laugh hysterically. Osamu had taught him how to use lemon juice as invisible ink when he was five years old and had no greater worries than whether he would get to watch his cartoons. " _'C.,'_ " he read aloud, his voice a weak rasp. " _'TTC chapter 1. Kusanagi met with an unexpected hazard -- the roses have rebelled. Switched to the bleeding logs; several promising subjects, but I am placing my hopes in Subject M. Old knowledge enveloping the new, imperfect and problematic, but our best option right now. L. will deliver the log when it is prepared. Continuing to obfuscate the masters, though they may resort to violence. It does not matter. Keep Ken in the dark. Regards, A.'_ " 

He was grateful, a little, that they were all confused. There wasn't much more that was enlightening in the few other letters he read. All he knew was that Jianliang was involved in some conspiracy, part of which included withholding information from Ken. But what that information was, he couldn't tell from the letters alone. Too much was unclear, hidden behind misleading words and imagery. It did nothing but enforce his dismay, and he had to get away. He threw the letters to the side and shoved past Takeru, who had inadvertently placed himself between Ken and the door. It didn't approach him to say anything until he reached the door. "Gather the evidence. Get Sora to mobilize what security we can trust. I don't care if she's taking time off to socialize with her girlfriends, this is more important. Find Jianliang and throw him in holding until I can stand to see him again." 

With that, he slammed the door on the way out and stormed to his quarters. The sudden rage only lasted until he was back in his bed, where no one would think to interrupt him. He would not come out again until the next day, when priorities reasserted themselves and he would have to focus on other things. Wormmon said nothing as he climbed up into bed with him and snuggled close. 

.*.

Something had felt off for Jianliang for the past couple of days. His satellite phone had disappeared and he couldn't remember where. He'd retraced his steps to the gym where his clothes waited in their locker, and could not find it in the pile. A slow, burning panic settled in his stomach as he searched for it, spiced ever so often in self-flagellating irritation for being so foolish as to walk around with it while he was so exhausted. Once the various leaders were settled in after their discussion, he roamed the corridors and his steps took him past a door he'd entered so often before. Then he paused and backtracked as his instincts warned him that something was amiss, and his heart raced as he noticed that there was a light showing underneath the door that should be locked. He pressed his ear to it and heard people shuffle through Osamu's things, and then Daisuke's voice asking Ken about the Chinese literature. His cover was blown, and he rushed to his quarters. 

Terriermon perked up from a game he was playing in the living room, then protested as Jianliang strode straight to his desk. He yanked open the bottom drawer, strapped on his pistol, and took the evidence of another universe with the pistol's case to stuff into his emergency bag. Alarmed, Terriermon trotted after him and demanded answers. "Can't talk," Jianliang said as he stuffed the last few things into the bag and shed his blazer for a more practical light jacket that was just worn out enough not to turn any heads outside. "Stay here and keep looking for that mole. I'll be back when I can." 

"Jen," Terriermon cried out as alarm turned to panic. "You're not leaving me, are you?" 

Any second spent standing in place was a second closer to his capture. Jianliang sighed and hugged his partner close. "I have to, but I promise I'll be back for you. At least you don't know anything. Be good, okay?" 

Then he set Terriermon on the desk and did not look back, certain that he'd break and stay behind if he did. He fled for an exit in a closed-off corridor that no one knew existed, running ever closer to the motorboat that would take him from Iwakuni to safety. His notes would be safe, because no one knew nushu and Iwakuni had no books regarding it, but he would miss the letters. But now he had to cut his losses. 

It wasn't until he was halfway to Atata Island that he felt safe enough to relax. 

.*.

After the excitement of the past two days and the arrival and departures of local leaders, Takeru thought he could be forgiven for being a little exhausted. He'd retrieved Sora from a small party with their friends just long enough to have her authorization to mobilize their military to search the base for Jianliang. When he wasn't found, they'd interrogated Terriermon, who was so distressed about his partner's sudden departure that it took nearly twenty minutes to get anything out of him that made any sense. He knew nothing, as they suspected, and Sora aborted the search for the day. Ken didn't come out of his quarters again until the morning, which he only did to demand Takeru's presence in his office. And he looked... about as well as could be expected for someone who had only recently discovered that one of his closest friends had betrayed him. 

One feature that Takeru had always found odd was that there was a bullet-proof glass wall at the far end of Ken's office, where Ken stood now. Through it, one could observe the atrium that served as a cafeteria on one end and hydroponics garden on the other. From a rough approximate of three stories above, the people and digimon milling around in their little groups looked small as they ate, or played card games, or walked among the hydroponics tanks. And though it was technically forbidden, there were always one or two digimon jumping from the catwalks above the hydroponics area to practice gliding. 

Ken nodded to a cluster of people at the far end of a cafeteria table. Daisuke's poker group was recognizable from the assortment of digimon mixed with security personnel and agents, and the gleam of Taichi's goggles in the artificial light. "I want you to look at him carefully. Tell me what you see." 

"I just see Daisuke." Takeru's eyes darted from the scene and back to Ken, who looked almost pensive as he observed the group. Daisuke was his friend, and miraculously one of the few people who was _normal_ in a world that stopped being normal fifteen years ago. "Why?" 

Ken continued watching the group, and Takeru noticed that there was laughter and people throwing poker chips at each other. It was a relief, in a way. Iwakuni had a gaping security hole and these people weren't letting it get to them. "I see an honest man who attracts loyalty, but doesn't command it. In the world of politics, honesty is suicide." 

Ah. He'd wondered if Ken remembered anything he said during the other night's drinking binge, and this seemed to be a continuation of his train of thought. "Then why make him General? That's unusual, even for you." 

"These are unusual times." A corner of Ken's mouth quirked at that, which was a relief to see after the past few days. "The thing is, people trust him because of who he is. They won't trust you because you hide your agendas, but him..." 

Takeru knew better than to take it personally, and smiled to soften his response. "So, now I'm useless?" 

"No, I need you for something else. Something uniquely suited to your skills." With that, Ken turned from the view to the waist-high bookshelf where he kept his tea set. His curiosity piqued, Takeru watched as he rifled through a small box of herbal teas delivered from Niigata. Hidden in a false bottom of the box was a folded sheaf of paper, which Ken held up for Takeru. "I received this from one of the Shogun's spies. I think her name was Nene. You're to go and gather information." 

Takeru's eyebrows rose at that, because he was so far from being spy material that the request was almost laughable. Still, he unfolded the paper to reveal a map of the Mogami River valley, roughly a hundred and eighty kilometers to the northeast of Niigata. Nestled in the mountains to the east of the river was a place marked Higashine, in the Yamagata region, an asterisk marking Omoriyama Park, and there was a small red dot further in the mountains. This was marked Koshikidake. There was a note to the side, written with a precise hand, that read "Nanami at the Buddhas in Omoriyama Park". There were no other clues, and the confusion was clear on his face. 

"You're to go to Niigata, pick up a horse, and meet with Nanami in Omoriyama Park. I'm told she has the answers you seek. Come back as soon as you can." The look Ken shot him was almost stern, as if expecting protest. "Nanami is the closest we've ever come to comprehensive information on Amaterasu's Cave. Get it and get out, because that area is controlled by the enemy. The local leaders agreed to a formal assembly in Kyoto in a few days, which may help distract Amaterasu long enough for you to go unnoticed." 

The map crumpled in Takeru's fingers as he latched on to Ken's words with a focus he normally reserved for hunting. This was what he'd been seeking for fifteen years. Fifteen years on the road, mostly just with Patamon for company. Fifteen years of homelessness and fending for himself and Patamon. And now, Ken had handed him the key to his questions on a silver platter. "I'll go first thing tomorrow morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Did you know that Gennai of Digimon is most likely inspired by the famous artist, inventor, physician, and all-around renaissance man Hiraga Gennai? He's pretty awesome, but the English Wikipedia entry for him does not mention that he was gay (it is mentioned at length on the Japanese Wiki entry for him, though). _Bian er chaai_ roughly translates to "Hairpin under Cap", and is a pretty famous piece of Ming dynasty literature. And to clarify, these are actually Osamu's books.
> 
> On awamori: it's a rice-based liquor from Okinawa (renamed Ryukyu due to history). While Uchinaaguchi (Ryukyuan/Okinawan language) might look Japanese to those with no experience, it's... not quite. Due to Japanese occupation since the fall of the Ryukyu kingdom, it's undergoing a linguistic shift to a dialect rather than a stand-alone language. It does, however, sound different enough that Ken has to think to pronounce it right. The sticker on the traditional clay pot is actually the flag of the Ryukyu independence movement that emerged in 1945 and been active since. In the SN timeline, the revived Ryukyu Kingdom adopted this flag as its own.
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with the term, _zainichi_ refers to non-Japanese people living in Japan. While this can refer to anyone, it's usually used in reference to Japanese citizens of Korean and Chinese descent who are permanent residents, sometimes due to Japanese imperialism before and during WWII. You'll notice I refer to WWII a lot in this fic, if not in exactly obvious ways.
> 
> And if you'd like the letter decoded: Kusanagi is a legendary sword and one of the three Imperial Regalia of Japan, and its name means "Grasscutter". The god Susanowo found it in Yamata-no-Orochi's body when he defeated it, then gave it to Amaterasu. It later ends up in the hero Yamato Takeru's hands. The usage here is more symbolic. TTC is an abbreviation for Te Tao Ching, a classic Chinese Taoism text. "Bleeding log" is a translation of "maruta" (technically just "log"), a term used by Unit 731 in reference to their victims. Unit 731 was one of several biological warfare units in the Japanese Imperial Army during WWII that experimented on Chinese citizens in the most horrific ways you can imagine (and worse). Unit 731 is why we know an awful lot about human physical limitations, because their research was sold to the US to exempt them from having to answer for war crimes. This fic pretty much owes everything to Unit 731. You might remember Subject M., too.
> 
> Oh! I almost forgot. Jen's notes are written in nushu, a largely phonetic writing system developed from Chinese hanzi by women in Jiangyong Prefecture, Hunan Province, China, roughly around the Qing dynasty. Its development was due to the fact that women were generally forbidden most formal education, and thus nushu became a sort of secret language used between women. It serves Jianliang well, because nushu is so obscure that only one man has ever mastered it.


	19. A Picture of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Takeru's off to meet with an informant, the local powers headed by Iwakuni stage a ceremony.

Atata Island was a rock of little more than two square kilometers of surface area. All it had to its name was a bridge to Inoko Island and a tiny harbor village that once might have housed three hundred people. Fishermen from Osaba might shelter in the Honura district if they were caught out at sea too late, and occasionally use it as a pit stop for deeper sea fishing, but otherwise it was abandoned. Therefore, Jianliang's trip to the Atata lighthouse museum was just as unimpeded as he expected it to be. Along the way, he hit an emergency signal that would be relayed to Camp Jinmachi, former home of the Northeastern Army of the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force and current operational branch of what Iwakuni knew as Amaterasu. He waited until nightfall, after he had depleted his emergency food stores and hidden his pack, before the big black helicopter came. It landed near the cliff overlooking the Seto Inland Sea, which beat frantically against the crags below, and several military personnel disembarked to point rifles at him. His hands rose in surrender.

"Special agent Henry Wong," he called out to them in a voice loud enough to be heard above the blades, using every reserve he had to steel his nerves. "My password is 'Yog-Sothoth'. Pass phrase is 'The Lurker at the Threshold'. I need to report to Yamaki."

They looked him over carefully, then their leader gave his gesture and the rifles lowered. "We've set up base at Akeno Air Field. You can report to him there."

Though he was still tense, for any mistake would doom them all, he feigned relief and joined the men in their helicopter.

.*.

Hikari had arrived in the morning of the informal gathering of local powers, and though Daisuke had wanted to welcome her himself, he waited while she, Mimi, Sora, and their digimon had their little reunion together. Then Takeru and Patamon had dropped by and everyone praised Patamon for his heroism, and sometime afterwards was the meeting that went on for hours. Daisuke hadn't personally encountered her until she was waiting for her ride to the outside, just after supper. She and Tailmon greeted him and his partner warmly, and Hikari's eyes searched his for something he didn't understand. Then she said something so unusual that it resonated in his memory for days afterwards.

"You have forgotten something."

It had perplexed Daisuke then, and her words still lingered long after the rest of the leaders left and Takeru went on some secret mission. Patamon was left behind for his own safety, which meant that Daisuke and Sora ended up taking turns in caring for a depressed digimon. It was even starting to affect V-mon, and Daisuke opted to teach V-mon how to play soccer, which helped as a small distraction. 

The words weighed on his mind again when he received a formal request to meet with Ken (and "select others") in his office. The others turned out to be Taiki, Manami, and Jialin; the latter of which surprised him because after the betrayal, Daisuke thought Ken might have been more hesitant to trust Jianliang's sister. All of the Lis had been interrogated several times, and none of them had ever suspected their brother of doing anything to harm the base. Shaochung had even jumped to her brother's defense, saying that if he had been spying, it must have been because he thought he was doing it for their protection. In the end, Jianliang fleeing the scene looked too suspicious for Shaochung's defense to amount to anything. 

Once they were all settled in, Ken stood and began. "I've called you here today because we are soon approaching a time when a broad military response will be required to defend this newly forged alliance. The four of you will be required to work together as Generals in charge of Iwakuni's forces." Daisuke felt as if his jaw might detach if it wasn't already fixed in place. He had _no_ military experience whatsoever, he was terrible at strategy, and he had all the self-discipline of a wet rag! What the hell? "Each of you brings something unique to the table. Jialin, you know our arsenal and the capabilities of our troops. You will be expected to utilize that knowledge to strengthen what we have and defend any of our weaker elements in our forces. Taiki, you're a brilliant strategist. I can't think of anyone else who was able to beat Osamu at chess. You've always been good at anticipating moves and countermoves, and we'll need that in the future. Manami, your patience and ability to detect a fault in anything is unparalleled. I need you to keep Taiki in check and make sure he doesn't get us in over our heads. We can't always have Akari rescuing him." There was a break in tension and they laughed, and even Manami smiled a little. "Daisuke," and then everyone looked at him, and he felt oddly self-conscious. They all had their talents, but him? Yeah, right. "You may not realize this, but your passion and optimism are inspiring when things are bleak. You're to keep our spirits up. A good morale is just as important as battle-readiness. Additionally, we need an everyman to keep our geniuses grounded and someone for the average person to trust and identify with."

Daisuke couldn't help it, a grin split his face and only habit kept him from puffing up too much from the praise. "I'll do my best!"

The corners of Ken's lips twitched in a suppressed smile, and then he moved on. "Now then, the trip itself is just over four hundred kilometers, along the Sanyo Expressway. For the main convoy, this trip will be about four hours. We'll send vehicles ahead to pick up local leaders along the way. For those arriving from north of Kyoto, the Shogun of Niigata has agreed to host a smaller convoy and will be picking them up along the way southbound. There's a field south of the GSDF garrison Katsura and the Katsuragawa train station, where the official meeting will take place. Zenjiro of the Kawashima clan has been so kind as to open up the garrison to us to serve as a base of security operations. Due to the delicacy of the political situation, security operations are shared by all parties involved. However, I would like to, ah, seed some extra personnel in the crowd. This event will not go unnoticed. Those digimon who are battle-ready will be asked to patrol the perimeter. Jialin will know which digimon show the most promise, so I'll leave those details to her. Taiki, I want you to oversee security planning. Collaborate with the Kawashima clan; it's their territory, they'll know their own weaknesses. Feel free to pick your own team. Manami, review the plans and do a survey of the territory in question. Daisuke, talk to people and gather information. If anything strikes you as unusual, inform any of us immediately. We'll meet again just before the trip."

With that, the meeting was formally closed and Ken stepped away. Daisuke was rooted in place as the other three began throwing around ideas, feeling very much the fish out of water. They were smarter than him, so much more so that he had to wonder at the wisdom of appointing an average guy like Daisuke to something like this. But maybe that was the point. 

By the time the brainstorming session was over, Daisuke found his niche. The others may have been good at strategy, or assessing their troops' capabilities, but he knew people. He knew the guards would need a change of scenery just to keep from being bored, so he proposed that they cycle the guards from one post to the next every hour rather than every three hours, with breaks in between to allow for human necessities. The breaks would be buffered by secondary guards stepping in for a short time. And digimon generally ate more than humans, so he suggested factoring in extra food supplies. The only flying digimon they had of adult level and above were an airdramon and a unimon, both who attained ultimate levels decades ago and had been downgraded to perfect level upon exodus from the Digital World and then adult levels as the years passed, and both without partners. Evolution being inaccessible for years due to the extent of time the digimon spent away from the Digital World, those two were their best option for aerial surveillance. And so on. Though he was exhausted by the end of it, he felt that he'd finally made an actual contribution.

.*.

Situated just over two kilometers south of Ise Bay and two-and-a-half kilometers west from the Miyagawa River delta was Akeno Air Field, a former GSDF aerodrome. The land was largely flat and fertile, with fields of rice swaying gently in the breeze, and served as the southernmost base of operations for Amaterasu. The local farming community had been subdued two years ago and now produced supplies for the growing Amaterasu forces. Jianliang had mentally rehearsed this entire thing on the trip here, yet when he stepped off the helicopter, his nerves were still stretched thin. One wrong move, one wrong person listening in, and all their plans would end with him. He was fortunate that his face showed nothing of his nervousness.

The soldiers escorted him across the tarmac to a nondescript, white-plastered building just south of the control tower. Waiting before the door was a tall, lanky man with bleached blond hair and the long green stalk of wild grass trapped between his teeth. The remains of a nicotine addiction forced to an end long ago. The older man threw the grass away as Jianliang drew closer. 

"Mr. Wong, welcome. You're just in time." 

Jianliang gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Mr. Yamaki. I have a report I must file in person. How's the wife?"

"She's gravid with our second child." There was nothing in his voice to suggest the usual feelings people had in regards to potential fatherhood. Rather, there was a hint of anxiety in the downturn of Yamaki's mouth, which Jianliang understood well enough for all that he'd never been in the same position. Yamaki's gaze turned to the soldiers. "I will debrief Mr. Wong in private. Please return to your posts."

As the soldiers marched away and Yamaki escorted him inside, he considered again how fortunate he was to have come across Yamaki during his espionage years. Yamaki hadn't been content with Amaterasu's leadership to begin with, even before isolation caused Amaterasu to fester. Then his wife had gotten pregnant and he was forced to consider the future beyond Amaterasu's immediate plans. A little more work and Jianliang had his own eyes and ears inside Amaterasu. The prospect of another child was sure to secure Yamaki's allegiance. 

Once they were in a secured room, he continued. "What of Atropos?"

Yamaki regarded him for a moment, and then sighed. "His willpower is impressive, but if the objective of this strike is successful, he may not hold out for much longer. I trust you two have a contingency plan?"

"Yes." He considered the words for a moment. "They plan on attacking the assembly, then?"

"The EMP bomb will be deployed first to kill any digimon in the area, then they'll throw in the tear gas." Yamaki's lips drew into a thin, humorless smile. "It's a step down from the initial attack plans. They were just going to nuke the place once they had Atropos' incentive. Why bother with a ground assault when you can just take out the opposition in one shot?"

Jianliang's reserve cracked and he stared, wide-eyed, at Yamaki. "I thought you killed the Shaggai project." It had been an early project, conceived before the end of the old world and never fully developed after Yamaki's unspoken defection. Though Jianliang couldn't remember the details, an electromagnetic pulse struck him as having the same effect as the proposed Shaggai: eliminating digimon. 

"This isn't Shaggai," Yamaki pointed out. "It's a high-altitude nuke. Maybe a yield of ten to twenty terajoules; it was always meant for a tactical strike, so the affected area will be relatively small. Fortunately, it's the only one they have."

As horrified as Jianliang's initial gut reaction was, he considered the facts. The bomb that took out Hiroshima had been larger, with a yield between fifty-four and seventy-five terajoules. Additionally, the high altitude a HEMP required would protect the people from the bulk of the radiation fall-out. If he remembered correctly, there were no biological effects of an EMP burst. He just hoped that the digimon had changed enough in their exile to survive it. "Is it a variable yield bomb?"

"Yes." Yamaki looked thoughtfully to the side as he worked out something in his head. "I'll have it dialed down as low as I can without garnering suspicion. However, I cannot stop the forces going to Kyoto. The Prime Minister will have his prize, no matter what stands in his way."

The expression on Jianliang's face was surely grim as he considered the fall-out of _that_. " _How much will you give to save the world_ ," Osamu had asked, once. He sacrificed his humanity for his family's safety. He would sacrifice everything, including his soul, for the greater good. "Then get your wife and child out of HQ, and anyone else who might be sympathetic to us. You don't want to be there when the white queen marches."

Yamaki merely nodded. "Anything else?"

"One more thing. Please allow me a search party," Jianliang began. This was more of a gamble than the white queen, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. "Ensure that it's staffed with people I can trust to obey me without question. I need to go hunting."

.*.

Though Daisuke understood that the local leaders would feel uncomfortable in enclosed spaces, he wished they had decided to stage their public announcement in something easier to defend than an open field. A stadium, maybe. When the Iwakuni delegation arrived, with a small caravan of nearby leaders being driven by their security teams, his optimism flagged as he saw how very open it was. They'd have to keep their eyes on all roads in the proximity, and the area might be too big for the two adult digimon to keep their eyes on everything. And that was just the start. 

Zenjiro, though not technically the leader of the Kawashima Clan, was high up enough to supervise preparations on their end. Not only did the generals end up having to run everything by him, but he had a taste for pretty women and tried ever so often to convince Manami, Sora, or Jialin to join him. This was said in a joking way, but Sora looked uncomfortable enough that Daisuke intervened on her behalf. Not out of any social obligations (Manami ignored Zenjiro, Jialin deflected with a smoothness that reminded him of his aikido days and the teacher who moved like water around Daisuke's attempts to make physical contact while sparring), but because Sora wasn't inclined to defend herself when so much was riding on diplomacy. As he'd already made a reputation of barging into things with a lack of social grace, Zenjiro laughed after his intervention and apologized for making the girls uncomfortable, and he was back to planning with the others. 

As morning warmed to noon and more people arrived, Daisuke shrugged off his jacket and started to fold it over his arm. Something crumpled inside, making Daisuke pause in consternation. " _You have forgotten something_ ," indeed. He dug into the interior pocket to draw out the letter from Hikari, dated to last month. Curious, he broke the seal.

 _"Dear Daisuke,"_ it began, and he couldn't stop the silly grin if he tried. _"It was such a pleasure meeting you all over again! I'm glad to see you've grown up so well, and that you've managed to find V-mon. Our partners are one of the greatest gifts we'll ever have; they are a lesson from the universe not to take ourselves too seriously, and to respect all life, regardless of where it comes from._

_"I am afraid that I am writing this to request another favor. Taichi is my brother by blood and Takeru is my brother by choice, and I love them both just the same. But I know my brothers well, and Takeru has always had a particular weakness. You must not let him go alone to the lands of your enemies, for he is ignorant to the dangers in his periphery when he's hunting something personally meaningful to him. This willful blindness will kill him if he's not careful. Please keep an eye on him. Patamon can only do so much, and I fear that Takeru may eventually abandon him for his own protection. Most importantly, though, please take care of yourself. Times are uncertain and I've heard nothing good come out of either Amaterasu or the Empire of the Sun. Love, Hikari."_

Daisuke reread the letter just to make sure he wasn't passing over any hints. It brought back the feeling of unease that started when Takeru left on his secret mission and enforced it. A glance up at the gathering and he knew things were well in hand. Word of Ruki joining the newborn alliance had started up a domino effect and those local leaders who were initially on the fence would also be arriving to join. Jialin and Manami had this well in hand, and Taiki managed security well enough with Zenjiro and Akari. They didn't really need him.

He picked up his partner, ignoring V-mon's protests, and ran for the building where Ken and the other leaders who had first signed on were holed up. Mimi and Ruki glanced up at him at the same time, which was weird, and Takuya was chatting with the Ryukyu delegate, Miki. Then Ruki rolled her eyes at him and waved him off to a neighboring room. Daisuke grimaced and barged through.

"Where'd you send Takeru," he asked once he swallowed down a few gulps of air. V-mon finally squirmed free and grumbled, then went to Wormmon to chat quietly.

Ken turned in his seat, his speech on the sheets scattered on the desk in front of him. The look he gave Daisuke was considering. "For safety's sake, I'm afraid—"

"Look, I have to find him. I have a really bad feeling, okay? I can't explain it."

Ken stared at him for a moment, his lips pressed thin as he considered Daisuke's words. Then he turned and pulled out a road map from somewhere in the desk's drawers. It was faded and torn along some of the creases, but still readable. "He's meeting an informant in Omoriyama Park, here." Ken's finger fell on the region of Higashine, west of Sendai. "If you're to meet him, head to Sendai and take Highway 48 westbound. The Sekiyama highway. Whatever you do, avoid Camp Jinmachi. Avoid anything west of the prefecture route 304, for that matter. I think that this is where Amaterasu is based, and I don't want to risk you getting caught, either."

Daisuke nodded glumly. He didn't know what Ken was thinking by letting Takeru run off like that into enemy territory, and given Ken's mood since Jianliang's betrayal, he wasn't inclined to ask. "I'll take our usual rover, then. And can you have someone take care of Patamon? And..." Somehow, he couldn't finish the thought. He had dire misgivings that weren't being helped by Ken's facts. He shoved his fists into his pockets.

"Take care, then," Ken said, after a long and uncomfortable moment of silence. "Don't let him get in over his head."

With a tight-lipped smile, Daisuke turned to grab V-mon and hunt down his rover. It was going to be a long drive.

.*.

After a breakneck race to Shibata, Niigata, largely along the Hokuriku/Nihonkai-Tohoku expressway that ran up the west coast of Honshu like a spine, Takeru only grudgingly slowed down when he arrived at Mimi's castle. This time he was escorted by the samurai, and the hybrid electric car he'd taken on Ken's behest was hidden away in an unused groundskeeping barn. The spy who'd come back with the information, a quiet woman named Nene, briefed him on the enemy territory and what to expect on his way. She took him to a solid terrain map that had been made for the Shogun's son, a beautifully built three-dimensional model of Japan that spanned an entire room. Takeru's fingers ran along the smooth, clear blue resin that served to mark waterways and oceans, brushed along the rough peaks of miniature mountains built to scale, tickled tufts of green-dyed dry sponges meant to represent trees, traced thin wire roadways that bisected green felt fields. Pebbled surfaces represented settlements and cities, and a fine layer of powdery sand stood in for the sand dune systems that passed for Japan's deserts. Nene took the time to point out the borders of the Mogami River valley and which roads were patrolled, and helped him figure out his route. He would have to follow the Nihonkai-Tohoku expressway to the Arakawa River and follow the river to one of its sources near Hiraiwayama, follow another tributary across the mountain until he joined up with the Mogami River, and follow that until he came across the tributary, Shiromizu, which would lead him to Omoriyama Park. It had seemed simple enough at the time, and the horse he'd been given was a small and sturdy Taishu horse more suited to scaling mountains than looking nice, like Jou's paint horse. No one would look twice at a traveler in ragged clothes astride a stout bay mare.

The trip took longer than he had expected, even with the mare's steady, sure-footed progression through steep mountain passes that would have held him up for days were he on foot. Iwakuni had spoiled him. Alone, without Daisuke and Patamon to distract him, he had time aplenty to follow the darkening paths of his thoughts. During his early days at the base, Jianliang had commented on Takeru's quest in a way that Takeru had thought was simply him thinking aloud. But what if Jianliang knew something he didn't? What if he was right, that Takeru's parents might be dead after all? He supposed he could continue to work at Iwakuni, but the intrigue that came with being cooped up with the same people for extended periods of time was quickly becoming tiring. While he got along well enough with individuals and small groups, he'd lost the ability to connect with more than one person at a time for very long. Tea with Ken was fine, and he could handle a conversation with Ruki with ease. Daisuke's poker group and the various clubs, however, frequently left him flailing in the attempt to keep track of multiple conversations and actions at once. Maybe he wasn't suited for a sedentary, urban life anymore. Fifteen years was a long time to be on the road. In another world, he might have settled down and had a family by now. 

By his third day off the beaten path, after crossing a good hundred kilometers of mountains and a few more kilometers of farmland straddling the Mogami River, he'd finally arrived in Omoriyama Park. Only rarely did he allow himself to be seen, and that was largely when he was sure that only the local farmers would notice him. After three days on the road, he looked enough of a mess that people without uniforms looked away and ignored him more often than naught. Still, he was careful to follow only back alleys and service corridors when he could, avoided uniformed personnel, and only crossed major streets when he saw patrols pass by and walked far enough away not to hear the horse as she walked. They weren't as frequent or as many as he thought they'd be, but even one guardsman roaming the streets was too much for him to risk an open confrontation. He had darts dipped in Ainu-made poison, but they kept their recipe secret and he had no idea whether something that could fell a deer would kill a human or simply make them a little sick. Not that he _wanted_ to kill anyone, but... He shied away from the topic yet again, for what seemed like the thousandth time. They all had to do terrible things to survive, and he might even believe it if he repeated it often enough. 

It took him a while to find somewhere to tie the horse. He ended up leaving her in a derelict garage in a walled-in yard overgrown with grasses and weeds, none of which looked toxic to horses. With the horse penned up for a much-needed rest, Takeru walked the rest of the way. He stayed off the trails and skirted the small mountain from within the overgrowth that hid him from any prying eyes along the prefecture route 304. What signs he could spot from within the shelter of leaves pointed him towards the Buddhas. Eventually he found them under a red-roofed shelter: three Buddha figures carved into a boulder, with a fourth so worn away that it was barely identifiable. At its foot was a small altar weathered by the years, and before it was a woman. Her hair was bleached and brittle, her clothes clean and neat in a way that suggested regular access to washing machines. He glanced around for any signs of other people, but she seemed to be alone. 

"I don't have all day," she drawled, her voice oozing with the boredom of the elite. The parasol, as dark as the business suit that must be uncomfortable in this humidity, twirled once before she closed it and turned towards him. Her lips were too brightly red, and her mascara overdone, but the fact that she had access to these things at all spoke volumes. "You can come out now."

He probably should have thought to bathe before meeting her, but the dust of the road served him well. People were too used to willfully ignoring the homeless. "Sorry. I'm Takeru. You're...?"

"Hasugaeki Nanami." She didn't even bother to hide her disgust at his appearance. " _You're_ the best they've got?"

After Ruki, this woman's attitude didn't impress him. He closed the distances between them and dusted himself off. "I got past the patrols, didn't I?"

She regarded him for a moment, then gave an elegant shrug and started walking. "Follow. Do you have any proof of who you are?"

"Here." Takeru dug out the map from Nene, which had been subsequently stamped with both the Iwakuni kite-on-blossom and the Shogun's chrysanthemum-over-rings seals, and thrust it in front of her. 

Nanami paused and picked open the balled-up sheet delicately, apparently trying to keep physical contact to a minimum. She examined the seals for a moment and returned it to him. "I see. Follow along, now. What I have to tell you is not for the ears of others."

And so he followed her up the small mountain, along a path hidden by the foliage. Omoriyama's name was fitting, for the trees covered every foot of the short mountain and he soon lost sight of the road below. Eventually she led him to the top, where there were a few recreational facilities and a concrete block of a radio relay station. It was there that she led him, and locked the door after him once he entered. 

The heat was almost intolerable within the small building, and he peeled off his cap just to cool off. There was just enough room for instrumentation and two people to work on the ground floor, and she led him to the floor above. It was a small office, and heavily cluttered with yellowing newspapers, books, notebooks, and other such paraphernalia. As he settled into a desk chair, she spoke and shuffled through the piles.

"I hear you've been looking for Amaterasu's Cave," she remarked as she pulled out some clippings hidden among the trash. "Ridiculous name, that. No idea who came up with it. What you should have been looking for is the JGSDF Camp Jinmachi, or Koshikidake." The first item she thrust into his hands was a map of the local area, with Camp Jinmachi and Koshikidake clearly marked. Camp Jinmachi too close to the south of them, the mountain Koshikidake to the north. "You're from Iwakuni, right?"

"Right."

"I was a researcher for Jinmachi. Most times, we worked either at the Camp or in Koshikidake. The thing about having a pretty face? People talk. I learned things I shouldn't have. Collecting all this information kept me entertained, for a while. But first, a bit of background." The next thing she shoved into his hands was a hand-drawn map of Japan with a few places marked. The first thing he noticed was the fact that Iwakuni, Koshikidake, and someplace near Naha in Okinawa were marked. "World War II, just before the Battle of Okinawa. The Navy Corps of Engineers built an underground headquarters overlooking the naval base, largely using forced Okinawan **—** excuse me, _Ryukyuan_ **—** labor. If you know your history, you know how it ended. What wasn't common knowledge was that more advanced bases were developed in Iwakuni and Koshikidake, which were abandoned during U.S. occupation and later revived once the San Francisco Peace Treaty of 1951 was signed. They were meant to be retreats for the royal family and important government officials should something like the war happen again. They were just far enough away from the major metropolitan areas and a big enough secret that the Diet was confident that they would never be targets in a war."

Takeru nodded. Some of this he knew, some he didn't. The new information he filed away, because while it wasn't important to him, it was important to Ken. Then Nanami pulled out a heavy accordion file stuffed to near bursting and shuffled through it for a handful of photos. The first were nondescript portraits of men in uniforms, but as he flipped through them, he felt ill. Photos of people being strapped down for inhumane experiments, people being vivisected, plans for bacterial bombs. There were records of what experiments were done on which logs written in excruciatingly sterile detail, reports of the results of plague bombs on the countryside, and... Takeru shut the file before it could really get to him. "And this?"

"One of several biological weapons research facilities built during the second Sino-Japanese War. With the support of the Imperial Japanese government, these facilities researched and developed biological and chemical weapons. How do we know how much blood a body can lose before it cannot be revived? How do we know how much of a toxin can kill a person? How do we know how long it takes for gangrene to set in after a frostbite, or how much of an organ can be removed before the body cannot function? How do we know exactly how long it takes for a body to die from dehydration or starvation?" Nanami's eyes had an ugly gleam in them as she talked, as if she found the subject attractive. He wasn't sure what was worse, her fascination or the records themselves. "Twelve thousand people in the facilities and four hundred thousand people in the countryside gave their lives to advance medical knowledge."

"Had their lives ripped away from them, you mean." Takeru didn't feel particularly charitable at the moment, and he was sure the disgust was apparent in his voice. 

She dismissed the criticism in his voice with a shrug and continued. "At the end of the war, the American general, MacArthur, granted the doctors that worked in these units immunity from war crimes prosecution in exchange for giving America exclusive rights to their research. Despite the deal, the Soviet Union got their hands on documentation at the Unit 731 facility in Manchuria and built their own biological weapons facility. As the Cold War progressed, nuclear proliferation gave way to a growing development of biological weapons. Not that much attention was paid to the latter, of course, but it's telling that by the end of the Cold War, the only two powers to have samples of smallpox after its eradication were the United States and the Soviet Union. For all I know, what used to be Russia still has stockpiles of weaponized smallpox."

Something about that niggled at the back of his head. Hadn't his mother written an article on that? And there was something mentioned in the article that had assured him as a child. "What about the... what was it? Biological Weapons Consortium?"

"Biological Weapons Convention," she corrected him, and her eyes danced with amusement that he thought was grotesque in light of the subject matter. "Do you really think words on a page _matter_ when it comes to keeping power? A little spinning and it's so easy to get around the spirit of a document while paying lip service to the letter of the document. The leaders of a nation could, if they liked, claim to only be working on defences against a biological weapon. If they got caught, of course. Someone clearly ignored the paperwork, because twenty-eight years later, the legacy of Unit 731 returned to Japan. By all accounts, the first outbreaks were in the United States. Whether it was their own program or someone else's is unknown."

It was easier to connect the dots now that he had history laid out before him. "So when this thing came, the Diet fled to Iwakuni and Koshikidake, correct?"

"The important people — politicians, the royal family, billionaires, generals — went to Koshikidake. Iwakuni was for the scientists, academics, and the part of the military that hadn't gone to protect Koshikidake. Obviously, Iwakuni failed and left Koshikidake to take on the task of creating a vaccine."

Memories that had been left as fragments started taking on new meaning. He remembered his parents talking while he and Yamato were supposed to be asleep. They had been investigating the plague and how it came to Japan, and found information from one of his father's contacts in the United States. There had been demands for answers in the chaos of the latter days of the plague, and his parents planned to bring those answers to the Prime Minister, at a place called Amaterasu's Cave. Takeru dug into his jacket to pull out his family photo. which was now dog-eared at the edges, and presented it to Nanami. "Have you seen either of the adults?"

Something in her seemed to soften, a little, and she gave a smile that wasn't so superior. "Yeah. Natsuko and Hiroaki, right? They were here for a while. Natsuko left with the splinter group. I don't know what happened to Hiroaki, I think he might have, too."

He cleared his throat as he tried to tamp down the sudden wellspring of optimism those words generated. His parents were alive, after all! He would have to let Yamato know, somehow, while he tried to find them. "I keep hearing about that splinter group. What happened?"

"It's complicated. In the early days, there were attempts to work on a vaccine, but the scientists at Iwakuni were dead and there was no one at Koshikidake with the right knowledge to create one. About ten years ago, a man named Kurata spearheaded the project, though he was more of a physicist than biologist. He enlisted the help of child geniuses, including yours truly, though we were met with failures at every turn. How do we get the immune system to recognize that it's been infected before it's too late? Then, about five years ago, this young man came along claiming he knew how to train the immune system to identify the virus, but he needed the technology to make his breakthrough. He'd been butting heads with Kurata ever since." She glowered at some thought or other, and continued. "Doc — the newbie — complied at first, but when he found out that we were going to use his vaccine to control people, he refused to play along. Then he started rebelling. Synthesizing ether for the subjects even though Kurata said that it will pollute our test results, treating them as friends, refusing to share his thoughts. Kurata ended up starting another task force to develop a vaccine without Doc's help. Around the same time, Koshikidake was festering. Too long alone makes a mess of a mind, after all. Some people wanted to stay and continue the experiments, others thought them unethical and split away to form their own little group. They call themselves the Empire of the Sun now. How quaint."

Takeru tried to remember exactly what he knew about the Empire of the Sun. It wasn't much; they occupied the island of Kyushu and stomped out some Clans in the process of taking it over. Ryukyu merchants gave it a wide berth. Ainu traders didn't go that far, preferring to use Shikoku and Osaba as ports by which they traded with Ryukyu. Kai had determined that it was off limits for reasons no one ever recorded. What he did know, though, was that he'd heard of it earlier than five years ago. _People go to Kyushu_ , he'd heard it said, _but they don't return_. "Weren't they around before then?"

Nanami gave a shrug. "Sure, there was a group we sent to guard some bases. Some brat named Damon took over Camp Hakata and the Yamada Ammunition Depot, and that sent Kurata into overdrive. Idiot wouldn't rest until they brought his head back. That was, what? Eight years ago? We'd held on to it for a while, let the troops occupying them call themselves what they like. I assumed they merged with the later splinter group."

"What do you want in exchange for all this," he finally asked. There were more questions, but they were better asked in something other than a concrete block in June that was growing hotter by the minute. 

"I'm leaving because Kurata's gotten too powerful and he's gone mad as a result." Bland disgust crossed her face. "Which I wouldn't care about, normally, but he'd recently conscripted me for an eugenics experiment. Maybe having a child might be interesting, but it's my choice to make and I'm not having one with _him_ of all people. This is what I want for the information: get me out of here. If your people manage to succeed in this farce of a war, I'll turn over my research for immunity." 

While having her around Iwakuni was hardly appealing, the decision would ultimately lie with Ken. They could come back for the files, but now he wanted to get out of the concrete block before he baked in the heat. Even without his cap, his hair was drenched with sweat. "This place is safe, right? You can come back later for the files?"

"Well yes, of course—"

Before she could finish, the shrill, ear-piercing blasts of a klaxon sounded and her eyes went wide. She promptly dropped her files. "Someone reported you. Where's your vehicle?"

"Don't have one." Takeru got up and started downstairs to the equipment area. He could hear the thrum of helicopters drawing too close for comfort, and he was ready to run as soon as they were out the door. When she joined him before the equipment, he continued. "There's a horse. Princess Sapphire. She's in a walled yard south of the Shiromizu. North of the 29 and the 122 intersection is a single lane residential road. Take that for about fifty feet and you'll find the yard. I'll come for you once I shake them. If I can't, go to Shibata."

He didn't give her time to protest, and bolted down the mountainside to draw the helicopter away.

.*.

While Ruki wasn't thrilled to be in a gathering of this magnitude, she knew how valuable her presence was. People may hate or fear her, but Osaba was a fairly advanced trading town and her reputation because of this spoke volumes. With the two great powers of Niigata and Osaba throwing in their support for this new country that Iwakuni was trying to build, in addition to the economic alliances with the Ryukyu Kingdom and the Ainu Nation, more and more local powers started expressing interest in signing up. In the effort to enforce the image of solidarity, Mimi remained at her side. Not with the child, of course; he'd been sent home with the digimon and an escort team because there was the danger that Amaterasu or the Empire of the Sun might take the opportunity to strike and Mimi preferred not to take that risk with her son. At least she was tolerable when she didn't have her son around to fawn and worry over, and her limping bodyguard largely kept to himself. 

Not that Ruki was in any position to complain. Takato had begged to go with her to this song and dance routine and couldn't quite articulate why it was important that he came along, and she hadn't the will to refuse. Therefore, she had Renamon keep an eye on him as he went about and talked to and hugged everyone he came across. She still didn't understand what that was about, but as it didn't seem to harm anyone, she didn't care enough to ask. He slipped into view every now and then, and for the most part no one seemed to mind his hugging. What did make her wonder was that Hikari was usually with him and talking with him when he wasn't accosting anyone. What on earth could they have in common to talk about? Hadn't Hikari pretty much foisted Takato onto her to begin with?

Nevertheless, there were other things to worry about. The sun crawled along to the western horizon, lengthening the shadows as her part of the world spun away from the light. The last of the stragglers had arrived in cars or wagons or atop horses, and Ken was holed up revising his speech yet again. Something about the watch discomforted her, and she strode over to talk to a cluster of Kawashima-appointed security guards and someone in an Iwakuni uniform who were debating whether or not to bring up the issue with Zenjiro. Given that Zenjiro was on the other side of the field, Ruki stepped in. 

"What's the problem?"

Though the Kawashima guards eyed her warily, the Iwakuni guard stood at attention and spoke for them. "We haven't heard back from Airdramon and Unimon, ma'am. They haven't reported back for their forty-five minute check-in. It may just be nothing—"

"But it probably is," Ruki cut in impatiently. The niggling sense that something was off went into full alarm, and she shoved past them to get to the weapons locker. While they all had to turn theirs in as a security precaution, she wasn't going to be caught unprepared. One of the Kawashima guards started protesting, which she interrupted. "You guys, report to Zenjiro and the generals. Keep it quiet; we don't want a panic just yet." She made sure that she had enough bullets, and then tucked her Peacemaker into the shoulder holster she had hidden under the suit's blazer. "You," she said to the Iwakuni security guard in his green uniform. "Ensign Emerald. Go inform Ken."

She didn't give them time to respond, because there was no time. If the aerial watch was taken out, then Amaterasu was coming for them. Though she didn't understand his importance, she understood that an awful lot of people wanted whatever it was that Takato had. She darted into the crowd and pulled him away from Hikari with little more than a few words of protest in response. After slipping behind a building and hauling Takato with her, Ruki called for her partner, who appeared out of the shadows. 

"It could be nothing, but I feel an ambush coming on," she started. "Renamon, I want you to take Takato and get the hell out of here. Take him home, if you can. If not, there's an emergency meeting place. The imperial tomb of... Emperor Kanmu or something. Just southeast of Raku-whatever Park in the Fushimi ward. If I don't turn up, go home anyway."

"I should stay! Help out somehow," Takato started, and she immediately cut him off. The last thing she needed was him arguing with her while she was trying to save his hide. 

"Someone helped you escape Amaterasu, right? Don't waste that person's efforts, or ours. Renamon?"

Renamon's voice was quiet and calm despite the threat that loomed over them. "There's an option. I'm not sure it will work, but... do you have your D-Arc?"

Puzzled, Ruki reached into her pocket and pulled out the blue-on-white device that fit so easily into her palm. It had appeared on her desk one night, shortly after her encounter with the Wanderer, with a stack of cards and a letter. There had been something about how the Digital World exodus hadn't affected Renamon as strongly as other digimon because she came through at a much later date than the digimon at Iwakuni, didn't have enough time in the real world for the pseudo-proteins to stabilize into real world amino acid chains and proteins, and therefore should retain enough energy to evolve a few times before she burned out. There was also a long-winded and scattered explanation as to the physics of digimon and evolution and if she liked, he had a friend who knew more. Not that she bothered to do more than skim the contents; she lacked the education to even make heads or tails of most of it, and the equations might as well have come from another world. Which they probably did. Then, in lieu of an actual signature, he drew a smiley face with stars around it. If it wasn't for the promise the cards and D-Arc held, she'd have tossed the entire mess in a fit of childishness. "What about it?"

"With your help, I could evolve." Renamon's eyes glittered with unspoken desire for the power of evolution. "I remember how."

Ruki wanted to ask how, but their time was running critically low. Instead, she reached into her back pocket and flipped through the cards until she found Super Evolution Plug-In S and Speed Plug-In T. Her body seemed to remember what her mind had forgotten and she slashed them through the notch in her D-Arc in quick succession. There was a blinding glow, and before she knew it, Renamon was something else entirely. A nine-tailed fox, like in those old paintings she sometimes saw as a child. Takato muttered something, but Ruki ignored him and all but bodily threw him onto the new digimon's back.

"Run like the wind," Ruki said, and Renamon, or whatever she was now, bolted the moment Takato grasped the shimenawa around her neck. They were out of sight in an instant, and she returned to the gathering. 

Ken and Mimi were waiting for her, and she yanked them both close. "Had to send Takato away. Ensign Emerald let you know we have an attack coming?"

"Yes," Ken said. She should have hated him for not telling her earlier about her mother, but with everything else happening, she hadn't the time. "We'll proceed. The longer we keep Amaterasu distracted, the better are Takeru's chances for making it out of their territory alive. The digimon we still have are our advantage against their weapons."

"Digimon aren't weapons," Mimi hissed, her eyes blazing with a fury that surprised Ruki. "Sora told me how this world is changing them the longer they're away from the Digital World. They'll get hurt!"

Ruki understood where Mimi was coming from, but right now she had to side with Ken. "And if no one pitches in, we all run a higher risk of dying. They knew what they were getting into when they volunteered to help."

Mimi frowned at her, but the unhappy look said more than her silence. Ken straightened and tugged at his uniform jacket to get any remaining wrinkles out. "We should start."

They followed him up to the podium. She'd chosen to wear a green and white suit, the colors of the flag of Hiroshima before the end of the world, which matched well with Iwakuni's colors. Mimi had opted for tradition; a formal black tomesode with the ring-like stylized emblem of the Niigata prefecture serving in place of the family crest and a silver-and-greenish-gold portrait of wave-like grains and mountains along the skirt, a gold-and-white obi, a golden chrysanthemum obidome that proclaimed a relation to the royal family, and a kanzashi in her hair of a single white chrysanthemum with a line of trailing green and white drops. Takuya joined them, himself in a formal Ainu rurunpe of dark blue, white applique, and crimson accents. At his opposite was the Ryukyu representative, Miki, in an ushinchi that drew the eye with its blindingly bright reds and yellows. With the united front of the most powerful of the stable friendly powers of Japan behind him, Ken stepped to the microphone. In a show of solidarity, Hikari, in her white priestess' garb, led the smaller local powers to the front of the audience. The leaders of the zainichi enclaves, the leaders of Clans that ruled the cities, and the leaders of small and independent towns lined one side of the crowd, and all looked up as the techs turned on the flood lights in the dimming twilight. 

"Welcome, and thank you for making it here. I know you all have doubts, and I hope that I can allay them," Ken began, his posture confident and open. Ruki rather thought he was doing an excellent job of hiding the fact that his right shoulder wasn't working right. "In all the history of humanity, our generation is unique. Never before has so much been lost. We've lost families, homes, knowledge. Our forefathers left us a world on the brink of ecological disaster brought on by short-sighted greed, and the great injustices of systematic prejudice fueled by that greed resonate among us still. Yet we are young and curious and full of promise, and we have been tempered by this new world of ours into stronger people than we might have been. Together we can meet and even surpass the innovations of our ancestors. Each of us has a chance for greatness, and together we can nurture that greatness into the promise for a better world than the one that was taken from us. This is our time, and we must be the ones to forge our future before others do it for us."

There was a bright flash high in the sky, cutting Ken off, and she could hear Wormmon shriek behind the raised platform. The shrieking was echoed by the other digimon seeded into the security forces, and Ken shifted tactics. "We are now under attack," he said with a calm that was almost envious. "Keep calm and please follow the security personnel into the tunnels, which you can follow to safety." Then he nodded to the leaders behind him, who largely dispersed on their own. Ruki, who knew that a distraction would be needed to ensure that they made it out safely, pulled out her pistol as Ken ducked behind the platform to pick up a strange green blob with a leaf-shaped thing on its head. She was moving to shove Mimi into the line, but the bodyguard got to Mimi first and was escorting her and the Ryukyu representative away before Ruki made it across the platform. A sudden flare of light and heat caught her eye, and the Ainu representative suddenly had fireballs in his hands. Figured, really. Fire being sacred to the Ainu people, that one of them figured out how to manipulate it like that made as much sense as her suddenly having a sacred fox spirit out of Japanese folklore as a familiar. 

"Nice party trick," she told him as she took a semi-automatic rifle offered by someone in Iwakuni green and rounded behind him to cover his rear. "You available for birthdays?"

Takuya chuckled dryly. "I'll check my schedule after this is over."

As the security teams caved in the entrance to the tunnels the Kawashima clan had dug in preparation for this kind of eventuality, Ruki tucked away her pistol and nestled the butt of the rifle into her shoulder. They were soon beset by tanks rolling in at each intersection that encompassed the open field, and the tanks were followed by troops in their fancy machine-made uniforms. One of the helicopters was taken out by a rocket launcher at the southeast corner of the field, but that only invoked another pilot's ire and a missile hit whoever had the rocket launcher. That and the other two helicopters were taken out by a freak tornado, because nothing was making sense tonight. It took but the slightest squeeze of the trigger and bullets rained into the oncoming troops with a single sweep of her arms. There were screams and burning flesh somewhere behind her, and she could only assume that Takuya had opted to turn into a human flamethrower. 

A canister was tossed into the ever-tightening circle of people holding the collapsed tunnel and hiding it from view while a handful of people filled it in with the dirt they had available. It hissed and smoked, and some genius kicked it back. Ken? He couldn't stop the other three, and they were deluged in stinging, burning smoke. She yanked her undershirt over her nose and mouth, but it couldn't keep all of the gas away. The world whirled and she faltered, and someone grabbed her shoulder to help her steady herself. A blonde woman with near-transparent white butterfly wings swept by and the tear gas cleared and was sent outward by the unusual wind that followed her. 

Then... Ruki couldn't remember all the details. Something big and heavy hit the woman with the wings and she went down in a spray of blood and the wings disappeared. There was a brightly flashing light that made her sick and she collapsed. They were overwhelmed, their weapons taken, and the light had temporarily blinded and incapacitated them. Rough hands yanked her up and demanded her name, which she spat and then received a backhanded slap for her trouble. Next to her, Mimi's bodyguard claimed to be the Shogun Haruhito of Niigata. Chioka Rei, which Ruki suspected was meant to protect Mimi by making him a bigger target. They caught Ken, who had been foolish enough to stick around. There had been several other names that she hadn't recognized, and she was cuffed and shuffled along to whatever fate awaited them.

.*.

Ken couldn't keep track of the time, as it seemed to alternate between going too fast and not going fast enough. They were cuffed, marked down, and filed into a personnel carrier that took them to be squeezed into a military helicopter with a larger cabin than the ones that attacked them. It wasn't so much the wait that agonized him en route to their prison, but worrying over Leafmon made him jittery and Ruki would have been glaring daggers at him if the tear gas hadn't left her eyelids so red and swollen. He and several of the Iwakuni personnel who hadn't fled with their digimon shoved their devolved partners under the platform, hoping that a ground clearance too small for a human to wedge under would be enough to keep them out of enemy sight and therefore out of mind. Despite his best efforts to hide the fact that he was still nursing a broken bone, he felt faint from the pain and Ruki said nothing as he leaned against her in the helicopter. "Boys are idiots. You shouldn't have stayed behind," she'd hissed at him under the noise of the blades, but still she held his good hand in reassurance. Rei did nothing but stare out the helicopter. In the end, there were just the three of them going to Amaterasu's domain.

They eventually arrived... somewhere. It was too dark to tell. They were marched into a sprawling subterranean complex twice as large as Iwakuni for what felt like hours, processed again and had their fingerprints and photos taken in a mockery of the last century's police booking, and tossed into cells. Ruki and Rei were chucked into one cell together, and he ended up with...

"Takeru?"

The lump on the bed groaned and sat up, and ugly bruises were visible even in the dim light of the jail. Someone had roughed him up hours ago. "Your venture didn't work out either, huh?"

Ruki's arm appeared from around the concrete wall that separated their cells and waved. "Fancy meeting you here, Angel. Give 'em hell?"

Takeru chuckled dryly, then winced. His ribs must have been cracked. "Tried to. Lost the hat in the scuffle."

"Did you find anything useful," Ken asked. While listening to Takeru and Ruki might be entertaining, he was more concerned with whatever Takeru had gotten out of Nanami. 

"Found the spring. Productive, but tasted a bit foul. Got the horse to drink her fill, though. With any luck, she's back at the stables." Takeru slumped back into bed, and the words between the lines were glaring. He'd found Nanami, and a wealth of information. If they were sure that they weren't being listened in on, Ken might have asked for details. 

Not that he had the time. There were footsteps approaching, many of them. They paused at the guard's station to be let in, and marched with military precision down the short row of cells. They stopped in front of the cell that Ken shared with Takeru; three guards, a middle-aged man with round-rimmed glasses and a smirk, and a man just three years older than Ken who looked pinched and half-starved and was glaring at him from behind rounded rectangle glasses rimmed in silver. Shorter than him, because he'd never eaten well even when they were children and tended to forgo food entirely when he studied. He was supposed to be dead. "Osamu," Ken whispered, stunned. The glare deepened. 

"Well isn't this a lovely family reunion," the older man said, his voice oily with satisfaction. "Isn't it _wonderful_ seeing your little brother again, Doc?"

Osamu opened his mouth, tried to say something, sneered though he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, and finally gave up on being anything other than angry. "Well, you idiot," he snapped, and Ken couldn't help but feel like he'd been slapped. "You've doomed us all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Yog-Sothoth is the Lovecraft deity of time, and "the lurker at the threshold" is an alias given for him in August Derleth's novel based on Lovecraft's notes. This is a nod to Konaka's love of Lovecraft and the fact that Yuggoth and Shaggai in Tamers are named after planets in the Lovecraft mythos.
> 
> The reason Renamon can evolve further than the other digimon is because she'd only been in the real world for five years, while the other digimon have been there for fifteen. Her pseudo-proteins haven't yet fully adapted. The terminology comes from Tamers. Additionally, evolution in Digimon has always involved belief, and only Ruki's belief in Renamon's capabilities allows the cards and D-Arc to function.
> 
> Nanami doesn't actually have a surname or kanji for her given name, or at least not any I can find. I've opted to give her "Hasugaeki Nanami" ("rainbow jewel bathed in lotuses") as a nod to Fujieda Yoshino ("grace of the wisteria branch", roughly). Also, there's a ton on Unit 731 that I haven't gotten into, but my primary source is "Unit 731 Testimony" by Hal Gold.


	20. Room 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has gone before: In the effort to consolidate their forces and build a new country, several local powers banded together with Iwakuni. The gathering was attacked and some of its leaders captured. Things are bleak, and Jianliang is forced to do the unthinkable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Kurata is a terrible man who has had twenty-five years to stew in hatred. He will do terrible things. Though some of these things do not happen in the text, the following things are mentioned: stalking, rape, genocide, torture, murder, forced drugging, and medical abuse. I'm just bringing this up in case you may be triggered by a mention of any of this.

"You asked me once," said O'Brien, "what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world." — Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell

Jianliang had no way to be sure of what was happening in Kyoto; he only knew that the strike confirmed a suspicion of his. Kurata was tired of waiting for Osamu to open up and urged the Prime Minister to act. He could hope all he liked that Ken might have escaped, but given the firepower behind Amaterasu, he knew better. It was time for the white queen to march. He excused himself from the team when they landed in the Chubu Centrair International Airport to refuel after a fruitless search along the major highways leading out of Kyoto, found an abandoned building, and pulled out his D-Arc. Though Yamaki had replaced his satellite phone, the D-Arc was his only truly secure way to contact Ryo. He'd written the communication program years ago, installed it in their D-Arcs, and had never planned to use it because it relied on a connection with the Digital World. With the Digital World as damaged as it was supposed to be, he didn't think using it to relay messages was the most appropriate option. 

"Lachesis," he whispered into the D-Arc once it connected. It was unwise to use their real names, even in private. "I can't contact Atropos from here. Initializing Wayland's revenge."

The other end was quiet for the moment. "Understood. Have your shield?"

"Looking for it. There's…" He didn't know how to explain it. He had learned about Nanami's missive and that Takeru would likely have been assigned to follow it due to his ridiculous quest. Daisuke was more of a wild card. He likely may have gone with Takeru, or have been roped into assisting with setting up the meeting at Kyoto. Either way, though, Jianliang didn't think he'd stick around Kyoto for long with Takeru running head-first into danger. "There's something of a wild card." He then took the time to explain.

"God's good at sensing other digimon, especially when there aren't that many around. If Daisuke took V-mon, then there's a good chance that we'll find them. Any chance of picking me up? I'm at the Atsuta Shrine in Nagoya. Found the second thing, but I think I'll leave it there for the time being. It's too conspicuous to carry around."

"We'll swing by. Find yourself a roof and be prepared for a rope ladder. Time is too critical to spend on landing."

"Sure. See you soon."

He returned to the helicopter once they broke the connection, and it lifted off. The helicopter veered northwards upon his command, and Jianliang spent his time again considering his options. There were none that he could see, or he'd leave off Wayland's revenge entirely. In the event that Ken was ever captured, the white queen would have to march to save him, because Jianliang and his cohorts knew that Osamu would finally cave to the pressure put upon him by Kurata. Besides the obvious reasoning of wanting to quash the opposition, Jianliang knew that the entire point of attacking the assembly was to capture Ken and use him as leverage against Osamu and force his compliance. He had done everything he could to prevent it, but in the end it didn't matter. Wayland's revenge would fall upon Koshikidake like an act of an angry god, and their souls would be forfeit.

The helicopter picked up Ryo, who'd found a fifth floor roof across the street from the collection of shrines that housed one of the three Imperial regalia of Japan, and they were off again the moment he'd grabbed onto the ladder. Ryo soon joined him in the cabin and buckled into a spare seat. He was going incognito, which meant that his normally spiky hair was forced down and grown out, and he'd grown a beard in the weeks he'd been to ground. Rare patches of black were interspersed in the brown of the beard and were more visible with his hair down, which Ryo had claimed was attributed to chimerism. 

"Prepared for the consequences," Ryo finally asked, his voice difficult to make out under the noise of the helicopter blades. It kept them from being heard by the pilots. "Wayland's revenge was meant to be a last-ditch effort."

"What choice do I have," he asked in turn. "The Prime Minister authorized a strike on the Kyoto assembly, and it will be successful. If they succeed in their objective, we both know what will happen."

A grim look crossed Ryo's face, one that was made more severe by the shaggy hair and beard. He had no answer, as there was none to give. Instead, they watched the countryside roll by far below them as the helicopter joined one of several that Jianliang had enlisted to search for something he still wasn't sure was out there. How much of a head start Daisuke had would depend on when he left, if he did. Would he have enough gas cans to refuel, or would he have to abandon the trip and walk the rest of the way? There were too many unknown variables, which he hated. It wasn't helping that Ryo had decided to drift off and was apparently napping. 

Sometime later, perhaps half an hour into Ryo's nap, a shadow seemed to pass over the cabin and disappeared when Ryo jerked awake. He blinked rapidly before focusing on Jianliang. "He's on the Tomei Expressway going into Tokyo. He'll probably be heading to Sendai, so we can catch him on the way there."

"How did you find him?"

"God showed me the way," Ryo said with a mysterious smile, then leaned back into his seat. Then, despite the occasional turbulence or the noise of the helicopter blades, he promptly slipped back into sleep.

.*.

Daisuke silently swore to himself as the rover reminded him that it was time to refuel. He'd refueled at the Iwakuni tanker and topped off the gas cans in the back before leaving, but he was sure that it wouldn't be enough to make it there and back. V-mon was looking antsy, and had been since a strange shadow fell over them on the way through Tokyo. His partner hadn't been able to explain why it had freaked him out, only that it was somehow familiar and that they should run before it found them again. 

Unfortunately, running wasn't going to work if the fuel ran out on them. Daisuke grumbled and slowed to a stop on the Joban Expressway somewhere between the suburbs of Mito and Naka, and got out to refuel while he still could. He could smell the silt of the Naka River wafting in the breeze, which meant that he was fairly close to the bridge crossing it. The fields surrounding the expressway were overgrown, had been for fifteen years, and trees vied with shrubs and grasses for land. The farmland that remained developed must be closer to the shore, largely because it was easier to sail a boat with goods to another port than to rely on horses to drag along wagons for miles. 

Someone was walking towards him from the bridge. He was taller than Daisuke, and his face newly shaven and blue eyes bright with a glint of madness. His hair looked freshly cut, if perhaps not as spiky as it had been. Instead of the Ainu attire, he wore some army uniform that fit him way better than scavenged clothes ought to. There was no insignia by which Daisuke could identify him, nor any other sign of identity. Even the name tag was blank. The one oddity was a coiled leather whip at the man's belt. Daisuke knew well enough to be wary, even when a broad grin spread across V-mon's face. 

"Ryo! Where've you been? I've missed you," V-mon exclaimed. He scrambled out of the rover, to Daisuke's surprise, and started trotting up to the Wanderer. Daisuke couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous by his partner's joy, which was completely irrational. Then something stopped V-mon halfway, as if he was suddenly unsure about what Daisuke assumed would be a tackling hug. 

"I've been busy," Ryo said, and the warm smile on his face was something Daisuke hadn't seen in his past few encounters with him. "I see you're with your real partner now. I'm with mine, too."

V-mon stepped back like he was afraid, which set off Daisuke's sense of danger and he looked around for whatever was freaking V-mon out. There was nothing but the lengthening shadows of the evening. "I thought I felt him near…"

"Don't worry, he's harmless for now," Ryo drew closer to reassure V-mon, and memories seemed to click together inside Daisuke. The Wanderer, Ryo, had always been going on about God talking to him. Maybe he had a digimon inside him like Junpei and Chiaki did, one that V-mon had previous experience with. It would explain how the Wanderer could disappear without a trace. "Too much of his power was reallocated to… other uses. Besides, now he has me to keep him in check."

V-mon shook his head, and Daisuke stepped forth in support. He had no idea what was going on, but he didn't like this a bit. "Don't you usually have more important things to be confusing us with?"

Ryo looked up to meet Daisuke's eyes, and he could see now what was freaking out V-mon. There was something dark and malignant inside him. Himself or the digimon; Daisuke couldn't tell. "Well, yes. Let yourself be captured, it'll be easier on all of us. Running will only make your chances of getting killed that much higher."

_What the hell?_ He could hear it now, the steady thrumming of helicopter blades. He grabbed V-mon and turned to dive into the scrubland. His feet were ready to pound pavement and he was fully prepared to blunder through the spindly branches of young trees to escape. But then he heard a loud crack, and something struck his shin and inertia wrapped it around his leg tight enough for a hard yank backwards to pull his leg out from under him and he fell hard into the grass. He tried getting up, but the whip drew taut with each attempt. 

"You're no use to anyone dead, Motomiya. V-mon, freeze." Ryo's military boots crunched in the gravel of the road shoulder as he approached them, and the whip slackened with each step. "I'm trying to keep you two alive."

Personally, Daisuke would rather do that himself. His fingers dug into the dirt as he tried to palm as much of it as he could in the intent to throw it in the Wanderer's face and run. Then there was another pair of feet, followed by others marching with military precision. The military boots sounded like they were surrounding them, and Daisuke grunted in disgust and lifted his hands in surrender. He'd go along, for now. 

"Let him go," another voice said. Jianliang. Daisuke swore under his breath; he _knew_ something had been off about Jianliang, even when he hoped that there was some answer to allay their suspicions about his loyalty. There was some motion along the whip's tail and it loosened enough to let Ryo draw it back into its coil and free Daisuke. He grumbled as he got back to his feet and dusted himself off. Jianliang gave him an examining look. "Will I have to cuff you, or will you listen to us?"

"I'll listen," he muttered dourly. Jianliang waved at the circle of soldiers and asked for privacy, and they dispersed. When he was sure it was just the four of them, Daisuke hissed; "What the hell is going on? You're working for Amaterasu, aren't you?"

Jianliang's eyes darted to Ryo, who simply nodded, and then Jianliang chose to actually clear things up. For once. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Ryo and I work for Atropos. Osamu. We relay some information to Amaterasu. Enough to keep them complacent, not enough to seriously compromise Iwakuni."

Daisuke was torn between confusion and annoyance, which was his usual response to overly complicated intrigue that he had no business in. Poor V-mon just looked hopelessly confused and had opted to remain quiet until they had more to work with. "Wait, isn't Osamu supposed to be dead or something?"

"Missing, actually," Ryo responded. "Ken jumped to the conclusion that he was dead on the assumption that Osamu would be in a situation that he'd be able to return to Iwakuni. The lie of omission served well enough to keep Ken from looking for him, thus keeping Ken safe."

Jianliang added, as if they had rehearsed this; "With Ken safe and out of enemy hands, Amaterasu cannot force Osamu to comply with their demands."

"Wait," Daisuke interrupted, because he was still having a hard time piecing things together, "but if they want Ken, why would they shoot him?"

"Different faction, different desires." Ryo's voice was patient, even as Jianliang started looking frustrated with him. "Amaterasu wants Ken to use as leverage to force Osamu to work with them, the Empire of the Sun — a splinter group — wants to remove Ken so that Osamu can't be forced to work with Amaterasu. Osamu has knowledge that Amaterasu has tried for years to pry out of him. Once they get their hands on Ken…"

"We can go over this in full in a more private setting." Jianliang then turned his attention wholly to Daisuke, and he'd never looked so serious. "Amaterasu will have struck the Kyoto convention by now, and they will be successful in extracting Ken. We need you to help us back into Iwakuni to rescue him, Takeru, and whoever else might be considered an important political prisoner. Will you help us?"

Daisuke's eyes darted between them, and then to V-mon, who only shrugged helplessly. He shouldn't trust them as far as he could throw them, but he had to do something. "Okay, fine. But no funny business."

Ryo looked relieved and smiled at him, and Jianliang continued. "Good. We'll overnight at Atata Island, and then return to Iwakuni by boat. I'll have one of the soldiers drive the rover somewhere out of sight."

He nodded; he still didn't like how much was still in the dark, but knowing something of what was going on helped, a bit. It still made him uneasy. What, exactly, weren't they telling him?

.*.

The night had been awful, not the least because these cells had been designed to hold one person apiece, and the exposed toilet and sink left no illusions of privacy. Having to share the cell meant that Ruki and Rei had to take turns on the thin mattress. Presumably Takeru and Ken were doing the same. At one point, she suggested to Takeru to steal the pillow to sit upon like she did and lean against the wall that separated them to talk. Which they did, for a while, and then eventually drifted off. 

Ruki was woken about the same time every one else was, with a guard leaving trays with bowls of rice and cups of cold tea at the bars of the cells. A bland breakfast, but better than nothing. She tucked in the best she could with the minimum amount of finger usage possible, wishing a thousand times that she had some sort of utensil. They were all quiet, and there was the elephant in the room that needed to be addressed. 

"After they interrogate us, they'll probably torture us for further information," she started nonchalantly, though she could see Rei blanching out of the corner of her eye. "With any luck, it won't be a professional. If we're very lucky it'll be someone who doesn't enjoy it. The ones that don't like it are the best, you can usually play up the screaming and they'll stop long enough for you to recover. They'll stop once you give them any information. The ones who like it are the worst. Give them what you know, and quickly, because it deprives them of the chance to try to break you. And you _will_ break."

Ken's voice cracked, weakly. "Speaking from experience?"

"On the receiving end, anyway." She shrugged, though she knew the boys couldn't see her. "Never was one to do it to anyone. I'd joined a couple of Clans before raising Osaba, and rising through the ranks can come at a cost. It's not exactly summer camp if a rival Clan catches you and thinks you're important."

The boys went quiet, which left her with Rei. Ruki's grandmother had always been a theater buff, which usually meant that Ruki grudgingly went along to whatever show had caught her grandmother's fancy. Noh had bored her, kabuki was only slightly more interesting, but what had really caught Ruki's interest was the Takarazuka revue. Unlike the traditions of kabuki and noh, which demanded an all-male cast, the Takarazuka revue was entirely female and the otokoyaku actresses were the image of the ideal man. Rei reminded her a little of the otokoyaku actresses, just without the make-up and flashy costuming decisions. Her familiarity with otokoyaku also meant that she recognized that Rei's body didn't match his presentation. Even if she was considerate about it, their captors wouldn't be.

"Look, I know you're a guy, okay," she began, and Rei started looking cagey. She pressed on. "Chances are, they don't care. They will likely disregard your identity, and rape has always been a weapon of war."

Rei glared at her, which wasn't helping. "I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can. Still, I'm going to show you something I teach everyone who comes under my protection." Ruki left off the fact that she taught these things to the cheerleaders, male and female alike. "Even if you know martial arts, no one's going to follow proper form in a down-and-dirty fight."

Rei looked miserable, but he agreed to be taught. And they began. She taught him what she had learned from the children of sex workers, street fighters, common criminals, political activists, and brawlers. How to break out of zip ties and handcuffs, how to break a nose and crush a hyoid bone, where to strike the most vulnerable parts that people generally don't think to defend. A knee to the crotch was a classic, of course, but she showed him how to grab and twist for maximum damage. Good form wouldn't keep him safe, learning how to recognize a potential weapon in his surroundings would. 

In the middle of Ruki's demonstration of the right angle at which to cause enough damage kidneys to make the victim piss blood, she heard the rattling of the barred door of the jail's entrance as it opened and stopped. By the time the guard and a group of soldiers arrived, Rei was in bed, she was leaning on the bars, and who knew what the boys were doing. 

They stopped in front of her. Of course. The leader stepped forward to address her.

"Asano Ruki." A false name and one they didn't have the records to verify. "Kurata requests your presence. Turn your back to the bars."

Maybe Kurata was to be their torturer. She had no idea, but she complied with their demands. Cold steel closed around her wrists, and she was yanked out of the cell. There was a loud clang as the door was slammed closed. The leader checked her for any hidden weapons, as if the violating search the night before could possibly have missed anything. She fantasized of sticking his hands and head on pikes.

An arm darted from the boys' cell, grabbed hold of a soldier's arm, and yanked the soldier bodily against the bars of the cell. "You leave her alone!" Takeru was practically screaming at them, and a smile tugged unbidden at her lips. So the angel had a vengeful streak, eh? There was a thud as what she assumed was the soldier's head met with a bar. "Let her go!"

Someone unclipped a cudgel from his belt and there were several hard smacks before the other soldier was released. "Don't worry," she began, hoping that the lightness in her voice was reassuring. "Different verse, same as the first. I'll be fine."

They led her out of the prison, which was little more than a small collection of cells that had fallen into disuse, and up and down several corridors and flights of stairs. To her surprise, they left the less developed part of the mountain and entered what she assumed was a residential area. Either the place had been cleared in advance, or everyone was out to lunch. They stopped before a door with a unit number and the resident's name given in Roman lettering. Kurata, A. One of the soldiers knocked, and the door was opened by the creeper from the night before, the one who wouldn't stop looking at her as they were processed and thrown into their cells. He smiled indulgently at her and welcomed them into his quarters. 

"Welcome, dear. Ruki, was it? I'm Professor Kurata Akihiro. Please call me Akihiro." The too-familiar way he spoke her name made it feel slimy. He leaned forward, and his clammy fingers took her by the chin and his eyes scanned her face. "Oh dear, they _were_ very rough yesterday, weren't they?" 

"Things like that happen in an attack," she murmured. It was safest to keep her true personality under wraps just now. She'd play along until she knew what he wanted. 

"Uncuff her, please," he said to the leader of the pack. "We cannot possibly talk like adults this way. Besides, even if this lovely slip of girl could do anything, you'll be outside, won't you?"

The soldier protested, stating that she couldn't be underestimated, but she gave the creeper such a saccharine, innocent smile that he urged the soldier until he caved. The cuffs went off and the soldiers left, and she rubbed her wrists as she took in the quarters. There were two plush armchairs with a small table between them, where a tea service had been placed on a lacy tablecloth. There were books stuffed in shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, one wall with a door that led to what she presumed was a bedroom and bathroom, a kitchenette just before that, and on the opposite wall… 

Mounted on the far wall was a handful of death masks in shadow boxes to protect them from dust, each with a plaque underneath. Ruki's assessment of him went straight from "harmless creep" to "dangerous sociopath"; she may have killed and mounted heads on pikes, but it had always been for the very distinct purpose of serving as a warning to the public not to perpetuate the same crimes. She'd only ever mounted the heads of rapists and traitors. Once the heads served their time on pikes, usually a week, she had them taken down and buried with their bodies. Never had she considered taking a trophy of any of them; the only trophies she'd ever taken was of the tiger that should have killed her, because the fur warmed her on long winter nights and the teeth reminded her how close she had been to death. That the fur served as a warning to others that she had taken down a tiger at the age of eight was a bonus. This kind of trophy took time and effort to create. Four of them were middle-aged men, like Kurata, but the middle one retained the soft curves in the face of a boy who was not yet a man. This one was at the center, as if in a place of special meaning to him. What on earth could a boy have done to him to deserve _that?_

"Ah! You've spotted my collection!" Kurata was so close behind her that she could feel him breathing down the back of her neck. The urge to elbow him away and follow up with a jab to the nose was strong, but she barely managed to contain it. "They were my enemies." Then he slipped to her side and his hand was on her elbow. "Now, my dear, why don't we have some tea and talk?"

Though she wanted to do anything but let him touch her, Ruki allowed him to escort her to the nearest armchair and watched carefully as he poured tea into two of the four porcelain teacups available. He didn't slip anything into her cup, at least in her presence, but she couldn't possibly know if he'd lined the teacup with a drug beforehand. So she nursed it and smiled insipidly up at what she was fast starting to think of as the king of creeps and a solid candidate for a horror movie villain. Her lessons with the cheerleaders had always been mutual: she taught them how to defend themselves, they taught her how to pretend to be into a client. "What do you want to discuss, mister?" 

"It's very simple, my dear." He stood across from her in a way that suggested that he was assuming power over her. Though he looked indulgent enough, there was an undercurrent that made her think that he was waiting for something. Probably for her to drink. "You're a beautiful young woman, Ms. Asano, and obviously very bright."

"I'm afraid my education stopped at elementary school," she said as she crossed her legs. His eyes followed the curve of her thighs, and she kept her grin inside. He really was desperate if he thought her trousers were sexy. This was going to be easier than she thought. 

"Academic achievement is not the only measure of intelligence. I've heard that you rule Hiroshima. Well done!" He watched her more carefully now. "I would like to offer you a deal. Your freedom, and leniency for your friends, in exchange for your participation in a little project of mine. Eugenics. It can be a simple medical procedure with some small degree of pain involved, or," and his lips curled in a way that made her even more wary of her tea, "as pleasant and natural as you'd like."

Ruki blinked up at him in with a placid, considering expression that she hoped was hiding the fact that he'd just made her skin crawl with his innuendo. This was trickier; she could feign ignorance and retain her comfort levels, or press further and risk a lot more. Then, as if drawn by the dead, her eyes drifted to the grotesqueries mounted like a game hunter's trophies and her resolve hardened. It would take everything she had, but she would play this out for as long as she needed to. "For the latter," she began, a finger tracing the rim of the teacup, "I really ought to know more about you." Then she pressed the rim to her lips and tipped it just enough for the tea to wet them. Her tongue darted out for a taste; too much sugar and cream, the strong aroma and taste of roasted tea leaves steeped too long, and a hint of salt that didn't belong. Her instincts were correct; he was trying to drug her. 

"Well," Kurata actually looked flattered that she seemed to be showing interest in him. "I graduated from the University of Tokyo with doctorates in theoretical physics and epigenomics, and blazed a trail towards a new field of science before the destruction of the Digital World fifteen years ago and the subsequent release of the Nellis virus. I am currently working on a vaccine for the virus, and through my work I've gained the respect of my peers."

As he spoke, she watched him through slitted eyes. "A man with ambition," she purred, though she was careful not to lay it on too thick. As she set the cup down for the moment, she ever so subtly fidgeted with her blouse's top button. "I like that."

He beamed and continued, though she did not miss the way his eyes drifted to her chest. "Ours is a time for opportunity. Those who can siege power have the chance to decide the destiny of the human race. It is my hope," and he knelt to grasp her hand, "that with your help, I can create a newer, better race to inherit the Earth."

Oh, good, he _was_ unhinged. "But surely you know that everyone else has similar ambitions," she murmured sweetly. Admittedly, this was a new twist on the depressingly predictable world domination schemes. 

"I have a plan in place that I've been working on for years," he said, and his fingers stroked the hand that he had trapped between his. The urge to rip it away was so strong that it took everything she had to resist it. "Once I fully understand the Nellis virus, I will create a vaccine that will allow me to use the virus as it had been intended to be used: as a weapon to be unleashed upon anyone unwise enough to get in the way."

"Is that what they did," she asked, and his gaze followed hers to the death masks.

He frowned, and she knew she had to backpedal as soon as she got the chance. "Don't let his youth fool you. Daimon was the worst of the lot. A brute of a boy. No one you should concern yourself with." His attention returned to her, and the flash of displeasure told her that she had to end this quickly. "Now then, do we have a deal?"

The top button popped open with calculated carelessness, and she drew attention to it with a tsk of dismay and fumbled to close it. He was distracted again. It was almost too easy. "You see, _Akihiro_ , if I'm going to be having children with anyone, their father must be bright, clever," and he looked hopeful and drew closer to her. She popped open a second button and his breath was close enough to stir the stray hairs of her head. "More importantly? He must be brave, and of good moral fiber."

The man's face fell, and Ruki grinned widely. This was probably the worst possible thing she could do, but he really had it coming. The top of her head butted into his nose and something gave with a sickening crack. Though she hadn't hit him hard enough to drive bone fragments into his brain, it dazed him enough for her to follow it up with a sharp kick to the groin, and he collapsed in a heap, too stunned to think of getting the guards' attention. She kicked him onto his back to force him to look at her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her voice wasn't quite a scream, but it was close enough that some small part of her wondered why the guards weren't barging in. "You're old enough to be my father! Do you get off on victimizing kids or something? How many girls did you drug? That kid, Daimon, he can't have been the only kid you killed. How many others were there?"

Kurata only curled up on himself and whimpered, and she rolled her eyes in disgust. After making sure she had the cup of drugged tea within easy reach, she shoved him back onto his back and pressed her knees into his shoulders, using her admittedly meager weight to pin him down. His hands shot up to pull her off, and she grabbed them and pressed her thumbs hard into the soft part of the inner wrist. His dominant wrist she snapped by twisting the hand along the wrist joint, and he howled this time. Ruki paused, breathless, and still the guards did not come. Kurata was less popular than he thought. The grin she gave him was predatory, and she reached up to fetch the teacup.

"Drink or I'll snap your head off next." He glared hatefully at her, but she was able to pry open his mouth and get some of the tea into his mouth. She even got him to swallow. For several minutes, they were glaring at each other. Then, slowly, he relaxed, even with the pain of a broken nose and wrist. When Ruki asked her questions again, his answers were slurred and nearly incomprehensible. He had no idea how many he had killed indirectly, and even those he made death masks of had fallen to soldiers or poison rather than his own hands. By the time she tried to press him for further details, he had passed out from the drug.

Grateful for the small blessing, Ruki got up and rummaged around. They weren't going to escape Amaterasu, not with its level of security, but she could at least make them comfortable. His private stores she pillaged, sticking as much food as she could into her pockets and down her blouse. Some plastic bags, a screwdriver, and some soap were stuffed into her socks, and she finally stepped out of the apartment. 

There was one guard on duty, who bowed to her respectfully. Why he had let her assault Kurata, she had no idea, but she presented her wrists for the cuffs and thought that she might as well make his job easier in exchange. "He drugged my sister," the guard said quietly, and the cuffs weren't as tight as they had been. "We couldn't prove anything, but… thank you." 

She nodded, and they walked together back to her prison.

.*.

Despite Ruki's almost flippant reassurance, Takeru spent a good thirty minutes in a foul mood and glaring at everything. While Ken could appreciate that, it was a relief when Takeru finally wound down enough to return to his pillow seat against the wall that separated them from the other cell. 

"It's Ruki," Ken said in quiet reassurance. "She's a survivor. I'd be more worried about the other guy."

Takeru couldn't quite suppress the smile. "Yeah, it's just… She shouldn't have to just _survive_ like that. None of us should."

"It's been fifteen years since that kind of sentiment had any meaning," Mimi's bodyguard said. "We don't get the luxury for that kind of dream."

Takeru had no rebuttal, and Ken couldn't bring himself to be encouraging. They were in the worst situation he could imagine, his brother was out there somewhere and their reunion left more questions than answers, and he couldn't stop thinking of Leafmon waiting for him. There were other worries, too: did the people who ran into the tunnels manage to escape? What of those who stayed behind to fend for them? He knew that Yagami Taichi had been monitoring the tunnel's primary exit route and that there were several guards at the side exits, but there was no telling how dedicated Amaterasu was in destroying the opposition. And then there were his brother's words. What effect could Ken's presence possibly have on anything?

Time passed slowly, and while they talked for a while, Takeru and Rei were distracted by their own worries. So, they waited. At one point, he and Takeru switched seats because Takeru was significantly more battered than Ken and needed to rest somewhere more comfortable than a pillow up against a concrete wall. 

Finally, when the anxiety was gnawing at them, there was the clanging of the prison door opening and a couple of pairs of feet clapping on hard concrete floors. One was the heavy thud of work boots, the other was the surprisingly welcome light clicking of Ruki's formal flats. They didn't stop at Ruki's cell, which was closer to the entrance, but at the one he shared with Takeru. She looked slightly worse for wear, but not in the way Ken would usually associate with torture.

"Sonohara here says the cells aren't monitored," Ruki said, and the lone guard nodded politely. "The equipment died long ago and no one knows how to fix it. They don't really want to torture us, so they'll interrogate us, first. This creep, Kurata, wants Ken for something. No one's sure what. Kurata seems to have his hands in the local politics, but he's not well liked." Then she smirked in that predatory way that made Ken wonder where she hid the body. "He has some sort of world domination scheme going on. It sounded too ridiculous for me to make sense of. With any luck, he won't remember how much I pried out of him before breaking a few bits and pieces."

Takeru had that slightly sour look, the one that suggested that he was torn on how to respond. And likely how to even process Ruki's words. They were such very different people with different experiences that shaped them, and it seemed sometimes that Takeru's (admittedly sometimes insufferable) moral high ground occasionally took a hit when she got to him somehow. "Which is all well and good, but is there any chance of us getting out?"

"Not before some people talk to Ichijouji," Sonohara said. "Just a preliminary thing, nothing… unnecessary. That's all I can divulge." 

The wording piqued Ken's curiosity, but he got up and waited as the soldier let Ruki back into her cell with a polite grace that reminded Ken of the better aspects of the old world. The soldier had maybe been a teenager when the virus hit; old enough for recruitment, but young enough and fresh enough not to have the ideals of youth beaten out of him. Ken wondered how many others were like him in Koshikidake. Would they be freed by sympathizers? Ken was a bit too jaded to seriously consider it as a viable option. 

Then the soldier came for him, and he didn't put up a struggle as he was cuffed and shown out the door. "You're just going to see the Prime Minister and Doc for now." Sonohara matched steps with him easily, which was all the more impressive for the fact that Ken was taller by several inches. "They're not going to torture you, yet. You're too valuable."

"It looks like you're helping us," Ken said. He was appreciative, of course, but he was not without suspicion. "Why?"

"This place used to mean something. I don't know if it was always rotting from within or if I only realized it when I went up in ranks, but things started changing when Kurata got hold of the Prime Minister's ear. Only, he wasn't the Prime Minister then. He was just an undersecretary. Kurata somehow got him into power and he'd been running the place from Tanaka's shadow ever since. Speak up to the wrong person, though, and you'll end up disappeared or re-educated." Sonohara paused to look Ken in the eye. "I've already risked a lot by letting Ms. Asano assault Kurata. I'd rather not give you any more details right now."

None of this surprised Ken, least of all the fact that Ruki had assaulted someone. Whoever Kurata was, he probably deserved it. "Thank you. You'll not have to worry about either of us divulging your secrets."

The soldier nodded, and they continued on their way. He was escorted through what was laid out a lot like Iwakuni's administrative corridors. Slightly different, of course, to follow the contours of a different mountain. Koshikidake, having been completed at a later date than Iwakuni, felt much more modern. There was some plastic siding cut into to expose a photogenic bit of geology, rather than the cubicle-like partitions of Iwakuni that hid the roughly-hewn stone behind them. Iwakuni was never meant to be pretty, or even a long-term residence. Iwakuni was designed for necessity, Koshikidake designed to serve as a simulacrum of the world outside. The rich man's bomb shelter. Finally, Ken was shown into a well-guarded office, uncuffed, and the other guards took watch. 

A portly man with greying hair slicked back rose from the desk and moved to greet him. Not with the formal bows that Ken expected from other heads of states, but with the warm, firm handshake of an American. It jolted and jarred his damaged shoulder, and it took everything he had to keep from wincing. "Ichijouji Ken, right? I'm Prime Minister Tanaka Itsuwa. Welcome!" 

"Thank you." The handshake stopped, and Ken withdrew his hand warily. He'd stopped trusting feigned cheerfulness long ago. "I would have been open to a more diplomatic avenue for discussions, rather than being attacked and brought here against my will."

Tanaka pursed his lips and considered him with folded arms before answering. "We cannot abide the actions of rebels tearing away at the fabric of our good nation. Our tactical response was appropriate."

"Both the 1925 Geneva Protocol and the 1993 Chemical Weapons Convention prohibit the use of chemical weapons, including tear gas," Ken pointed out. "Yours was a show of excessive force."

Then a smug little smirk appeared on the man's face, and faintly Ken wondered if Ruki would be up for smacking it, too. "Article II section 9 allows their use in a law enforcement or riot control situation."

There it was again: the assumption of authority. Everything about Tanaka presumed that he already had the country in his hands and was simply allowing it to roil in chaos. "You speak as if we are still one nation. We haven't been for a long time."

"Of course we are still one country—" The older man's tone was indulgent and condescending at once, and Ken had to cut him off. 

"A government _governs_." If a little of Ken's irritation showed, Tanaka didn't bring attention to it. "It enforces the law of the land, protects the least fortunate of its people, and ensures that the infrastructure remains intact. It does not hide in a hole while others repair the roads and water systems it neglected." 

Tanaka seemed to accede that to him, at least, and his tone was conciliatory. "Ah. Yes, of course, you're correct. We have been very negligent, haven't we? We lost a lot good people to the disease, but now that we're ready, we can bring order back to our nation."

"Except it's _not_ your nation, not anymore," Ken snapped. A small part of him wished he had Iori here to argue in his stead — as much as they fought, Ken knew that Iori was much better at playing politics and would be able to argue circles around Tanaka. Iori would be able to point out the work Ken had thrown into rebuilding without making it look like grandstanding. They had their differences, but Iori always preferred to operate out of fairness. "No one outside voted for any of you. You've stopped representing the people fifteen years ago. What makes you think you have any authority beyond this mountain?"

Tanaka beamed, which made Ken immediately wary. "Why, thank you for the honesty of your opinions, and for cutting to the quick. In times of disaster, martial law can be declared. We have simply stopped allowing such gross violations of the Public Security Preservation Law of 1925. 'Anyone who has formed an association with altering the national essence, or the system of private property, and anyone who has joined such an association with full knowledge of its object, shall be liable to imprisonment with or without hard labor, for a term not exceeding ten years.'" Ken wanted to challenge that, but he couldn't remember why. Wasn't it a defunct law? There was something in his reading about the problem of the vagueness of the law and the rise of thought police. Again he wished Iori was here, just to argue law. "I'm sure you can understand that your actions have brought you to this place now. As for our authority, it is enforced by two things. One we have already: superior firepower. The second is where you come in."

Though that threw him for a moment, a sudden unease welled within him. Osamu said that he'd doomed them all. Was that by being captured? "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The Nellis virus was always meant to be a weapon," Tanaka began. "An ingenious bit of bioengineering; it kills only those strong enough to oppose the creators and leaves behind children that can be molded to suit one's needs. We've spent so many years trying to decode it, figure out how it works so that we can develop a vaccine to serve as a bargaining chip. Your brother is the only one who has been able to figure it out enough to control it." Horror settled into a cold weight at the pit of his stomach, and he was speechless. Tanaka saw realization dawn on his face and was pleased. "You understand now, don't you? Your brother has been resisting us ever since he realized what we planned to do with his vaccine. One way or the other, you are here to convince him to surrender his knowledge. Understand that he is not expendable. You, however, are merely a means to an end."

_You've doomed us all_ , his brother had said, and the realization of what he meant tasted bitter in his mouth. The self-styled Prime Minister clapped him on the shoulder and he had to grit his teeth to keep from visibly wincing. "Between you and me, young man? I would recommend making a concentrated effort to convince him. Why don't you go see him now, get it out of the way?"

Ken was shown out the door, and he followed the guards with the steps of one who was operating on automatic. The long walk helped settle him, though he couldn't quite shake the tangled mess of emotions. He set it aside to be processed in the dark, instead. By the time they arrived at a door at the end of a long hallway, he had steeled himself for whatever his brother might throw at him.

The laboratory was in two parts. The first was filled with equipment, the vast majority of which Ken couldn't possibly identify, and a couple of desks with computers. Beyond that was a glass wall with a series of doors leading to a sterile room, much like the isolation chambers at Iwakuni. Within were more pieces of indecipherable equipment, microscopes, freezers, and a work bench. Then there was his brother seated at one of the computers with his back to the door, the steady clicking of knitting needles coming from his direction. 

"I'm working on a protein synthesis problem. Go harass Hasugaeki," Osamu snapped, as if soldiers barging in on his work was a regular occurrence. He turned in his chair in that way that warned Ken that he was annoyed, and faltered when he saw Ken among them. The annoyance dissipated, replaced by bland neutrality. "Thank you, now go away." 

The soldiers left and closed the door behind him, and Osamu set down his knitting needles and what looked to be a scarf in the making in exchange for a white kit. He got up and approached Ken with that same neutral expression. The kit was set down on the nearest surface, opened, and Osamu dabbed some alcohol on a swab and withdrew an empty hypodermic needle. "Have you ever encountered a man named Matsuda Takato or known as the Grail, or been in a significant amount of contact with someone who has? Were there any effects?"

_That_ came out of nowhere. Ken blinked and considered the questions. Didn't Takeru mention that Hikari was looking for the Grail? And he seemed to remember the name, vaguely. A couple of weeks afterwards, there had been a mild epidemic that came and went with less fanfare than any outbreak of the common cold. "Er. Maybe? There was an outbreak of something mild that a couple of agents came back with several months ago, but nothing remarkable. We'd had more trouble with seasonal colds."

"Good." The bland neutrality broke and Osamu allowed himself a little smugness. It was, surprisingly, a relief to see it again. "Take off your shirt. I'd like a sample to verify."

Though confused, Ken obeyed. Osamu busied himself with some equipment in the meantime, like he always did when he was talking to anyone and there was a lull in discussion. He didn't mean to be rude, Ken knew, it just looked that way to anyone who didn't know that Osamu generally thought at a much faster pace than most people. "May I ask what this is about?"

Osamu sighed; he used to be better at refraining from expressing his frustration at slowing down for others. "First, I'll be taking a sample of blood to check for the presence of antibodies. Second, I will use the ultrasound scanner to check how your shoulder is healing. I'd prefer a MRI scan, but an ultrasound scanner is more portable and easier to hide in plain sight. Now, give me your arm so that we can get this over with."

"Antibodies to what?" Ken wanted to sigh in turn; Osamu's personality was harsh at the best of times, and being here hadn't done him any favors. His brother ignored him for the moment to find a vein, wipe the skin over it with alcohol, and there was a sharp pinch and the always odd sensation of something hard and cold going inside him and blood being forcibly drawn away. When the hypodermic needle was full, Osamu replaced the cap and set it aside, and gave Ken a cotton ball to press onto the tiny entrance wound. He trotted over to a small, portable refrigerator, where he took out a box, emptied the contents, and placed the needle within it. The box was returned to its place in the refrigerator, and the contents placed in Ken's hands: a couple of rice balls and a cup of grilled vegetables and tofu. Osamu had always eaten like an ascetic; it was no surprise that this tendency had only gotten worse over the years.

"I know it's not much," Osamu said when Ken failed to hide the disappointment. "I adopted vegetarianism shortly after coming to this place. As for the other… Do you know how they vaccinated people before Louis Pasteur figured out that weakening or killing a pathogen protected the recipient from a full-fledged infection? Small slave children infected with cowpox would be taken overseas to inoculate vulnerable populations against smallpox. It wasn't the best option available, but it was the only one I had when Kurata got some kid to mangle my roses and somehow developed a mutant form of the Nellis virus as a result. Now then, turn around."

Ken turned and felt something cold and sticky spread across the entrance and exit scars left by the bullet, and the ultrasound probe was pressed against his skin. He wanted to ask what Osamu was rambling about, but it would only frustrate him again and Ken would prefer to have a reunion that wasn't quite this tense. Osamu hummed as he looked over the imagery, and then Ken realized something: Osamu shouldn't have known about the assassination attempt at all, not if Jianliang's analysis was correct. "Osamu? How did you know about this?"

"I have my sources." Osamu paused and turned Ken around to scan the entry scar. His eyes only left the monitor to check his probe placement. What he could make out of the images, Ken had no idea. "Your soft tissues have healed well enough," Osamu said in that distracted tone of his. "Damned thing can't see past a bone's surface, so I can't tell how deep the fractures are. It does look like your right scapula has undertaken enough stress to undo most of your bone's healing. The lack of skeletal fixation is worrisome. I'd open you up to fit you with a plate and some surgical coral if I could." Then he wiped away the gel and busied himself with erasing the images and putting away the machine. 

Self-consciously, Ken pulled his shirt and jacket back on and nibbled on his brother's lunch as Osamu bustled about. He didn't know what to expect, really. Osamu was behaving as if he'd always known that Ken would turn up, and the lack of surprise over his wound bothered him for some infantile reason he couldn't articulate. Had he wanted an emotional reunion with hugs and proclamations of who missed who more? Not that it _would_ happen — Osamu turned emotional detachment into an art form even before he left. Still, he had to try something. "I missed you. Why didn't you send word that you were alive?"

"Because you would have come after me before my plans came to fruition. So long as you didn't know and stayed safely inside Iwakuni, I had the freedom to run Kurata's plans aground while my variety of cowpox had the time to spread and render it powerless." Osamu paused and managed a weak smile. "I missed you, too, but I never wanted you here."

"You know why I was sent here, then?" There was some relief in that, at least. If Osamu already knew the ultimatum, he wouldn't have to deliver it himself.

Despite Osamu's reserve, disgust managed to twist his lip into a small sneer. "I know, and it reeks of Kurata's typical cowardice. My answer remains the same."

He didn't get an opportunity to go much further. There was a knock at the door, and then a young woman dressed in pale yellows and browns stepped into the lab with a scowl on her face. Her blouse was long-sleeved, her skirt swept around her ankles, and she wore more bangles and bracelets than anyone would consider tasteful. They tinkled with each step, and crashed together when she stopped abruptly. Her honey-brown eyes widened in surprise. "Doc! I'm sorry; the soldiers didn't say anything about a visitor. I'll come back later."

Osamu sighed. "Stay and make yourself useful. Katou, this is my brother, Ken. Ken, this is my assistant, Katou Juri."

Katou gave him a smile that might have been friendly, but it never quite reached her eyes. She did manage a slight bow, which Ken appreciated for the fact that bowing in return didn't jar his shoulder as much as a handshake. "Really, I just sit around and look nice."

Ken wanted to respond to that, but Sonohara opened the door and it was time to go back to his cell. The damage was done, and the walk gave Ken plenty of time to realize how monumentally he'd screwed up. With him here, Osamu would be pressured into surrendering what he knew of the Nellis virus and likely reveal his countermeasure in the process.

.*.

When they woke, it was so early that the stars were still out. The four of them trekked to the motorboat tied in the abandoned harbor of Atata Island, and they were stopped by a call from Jianliang's contact via his replacement satellite phone, a man named Yamaki. Daisuke's stomach sank as Yamaki reported the names of those captured, and the names of the dead that they could identify. None of them sounded familiar, thankfully, but even one dead was too much. Then they were off to Iwakuni.

At best, Daisuke was confused. At worst, he was dumbfounded by what seemed like a complete waste. They said that they needed him for Iwakuni, but they got in through an unused service shaft that was so well hidden that he would have missed it entirely while walking by. It led them to a corridor that twisted and turned and went so deeply that not even the lights were on. The Wanderer led the way with a flashlight, and it was barely enough to pick out their path. V-mon remained as quiet as he had been ever since their capture, and sometimes Daisuke caught him looking at Ryo with a grief and misery that looked so odd on him. Daisuke wanted to ask about it, but V-mon deterred him the few times he tried. 

"What do you know of chess, Daisuke?" Jianliang's pace remained steady as he spoke, and the sway of Ryo's flashlight didn't change. 

"That I'm not smart enough to win against a rock, let alone you guys," Daisuke snarked. Sure, he was used to being the average one, but some people really had a way of making him feel like an ignorant child being chastized for the mere sin of not knowing enough. His partner, who had consented to be carried to keep from slowing them down, patted his arm reassuringly. "Why?"

The response was slower in coming, probably because Jianliang was counting to ten in his head or something. "The queen is the most powerful piece on the board. She's capable of moving the furthest, has the most flexibility, and is usually kept in reserve to take down the king."

"Great. What's that got to do with anything?"

"What color do we associate with death," Ryo asked. "Or, did before the Westerners came?"

"White, because we wear undyed linen to funerals and for mourning." Something that every kid who lived through the Apocalypse knew by heart now. "Again, what's going on?"

Neither of them answered, and they continued on their way in silence. When they finally stopped at the one place where an emergency light glowed an angry red on the wall, he realized something: he'd been here before. They had once held Oikawa here, and then he died of four penetrating wounds that never should have happened in the first place. Jianliang tapped in a code that Daisuke didn't get to see, and they were inside an area with a collection of isolation chambers. Daisuke recognized one of them as the one he'd thought was used before because there was no dust on the doorknob or the floor just before the entrance. This they entered, and Jianliang threw on the lights and pressed a button on the console. 

There were three sections that might have passed as rooms, and there was a curtain drawn across the one immediately across from the glass that separated the rooms. Jianliang's smile was tight and grim and made Daisuke's skin crawl. "Introducing the White Queen."

A woman in an oversized purple dressing gown stepped out from behind the curtain and rubbed her eyes blearily. Her hair was streaked with white, but she still reminded him of a supermodel. She also had to be in her forties. Daisuke's jaw worked around the questions that threatened to spill out, but he couldn't utter a sound. "Jen! What time is it? You never come this early."

"It's almost six," Jianliang responded. "I'm afraid that I'm not here for a social call. Ken, your daughter, and several others have been captured by Amaterasu. We need your help and Osamu has authorized your release."

The woman looked horrified, and her identity clicked just then. She was a softer, older version of Ruki, gorgeous the way Ruki could have been if it wasn't for the harsh personality. But none of the adults should have survived! … But there had been that one old lady in Hiroshima he caught sight of when they were helping Ruki with a usurper problem. Maybe there were more survivors. But a survivor would be out and about, not locked up behind glass like… like a lab specimen. The white queen kept in reserve until it was time to take down the king. White for death. Nausea welled within Daisuke as he finally understood why Jianliang and Ryo hadn't actually told him their plans. Their plans involved unleashing the killer virus on Amaterasu.

.*.

With no one monitoring them, they felt confident enough to talk during the night. Once their captors learned that Rei was simply a substitute for the Shogun, he was sent back to the prison with little more than a few bruises. Ruki had told them of her encounter of Kurata and the supplies she stole and had hidden in plastic bags in the mattress, and Ken compared that to what he had learned from his brother. Takeru and Rei remained silent throughout. Ken had no idea what was going on with Rei, but Takeru had that vengeful look on him again when Ruki mentioned the drugging attempt and the death masks. He supposed it was just as well that they were stuck in prison, because he had read about Takeru killing a group of people in his single-minded rage in Daisuke's report and the last thing they needed was to make things worse. So he let Takeru be, at least for the moment, and focused on his own problems. Osamu would fight their demands to turn over his research and the key to the virus regardless of Ken's presence. Which, of course, meant that they would put further pressure on Osamu by torturing Ken. Or, at least, that was what Ruki had said once they put together the day's experiences. She suggested that they were likely to put on a show for Osamu, which meant that they were likely to try to keep him alive until the last possible minute and would use techniques that got dramatic responses without doing too much damage. It didn't help.

Ken had spent the night in uneasy sleep on the bed, and was awake by the time the soldiers came for him. Sonohara was among them, and looked apologetic when no one was watching. He was cuffed and marched in a direction opposite of the one he'd been taken through last time. Or perhaps they were ensuring that he wouldn't be able to find his way out, or back. Ruki had said that the anticipation was worse than the actual experience, but Ken honestly couldn't keep from wondering what was in store for him. So preoccupied was he by this anxiety that he was surprised by their sudden arrival to what looked like an operating theater. The bright lights focused on an operating table fitted with straps, and there were several pieces of equipment. Trapped behind a glass wall was Osamu, with Kurata at his side and a soldier to serve for security. A nasal splint made Kurata's nose look larger than it had been, and there was a cast on his dominant wrist. Kurata couldn't wear his glasses with the splint, and he ended up bringing them to his face every few seconds to make out what was going on. Tanaka joined them in the observation room.

With the audience in place, Ken was stripped of his shirt and blazer and shown to the audience. Kurata fumbled with controls on the other side of the glass until he found the sound system. "Welcome! Before we proceed," Kurata began with a nasty gleam in his unfocused eyes, "Ichijouji Osamu, will you surrender all your research data and any progress you have made on a vaccine?"

Osamu's face was stony, though it was clear to Ken that he was avoiding having to look at anything in order to stay focused. "My answer remains the same. Too much of the data is lost for me to assist you in killing off the rest of humanity."

The older man glared hatefully at Ken's brother and moved to address the soldiers when Tanaka whispered into his ear. The hate was replaced by cruel delight, and the microphone turned over to the self-appointed Prime Minister. "I noticed something unusual about the younger Ichijouji. He seems to favor his right side. You there. Corporal. Break his shoulder blade. The right one. Shouldn't take much, I don't think."

Steeling himself hadn't helped, and he screamed as the still-healing bone cracked apart under the blunt force of a cudgel. The pain was worse than the bullet, somehow; it was deep and wrong and made him feel woozy and nauseous at once. He was thrown onto the operating table on his back, which sent another shock of pain through his body. His feeble attempts to defend himself did nothing but make the pain worse, and he was eventually strapped into place. Something was being wheeled into sight, and the edges gleamed in the light. There was frantic, high-pitched squeaking, and the nausea got worse when he recognized them as rats. 

"This is a favorite of mine," Kurata said. Ken couldn't see them from his angle, but Kurata sounded smug. "The rats have fleas bearing Yersinia pestis. Which do you think will kill him first? The rats or one of three varieties of plague?"

Osamu remained quiet as the glass cage was brought to Ken's side. Before they came too much closer, he spoke up. "Fine." The disgust in his brother's voice was palpable. "Let me repair his shoulder, then I'll give you exactly what you want. You'll get only a small portion of the data you want before then."

Though he tried to focus on the words, the pain was too much and Ken slipped away into unconsciousness.

.*.

By noon, Akihiro was fairly pleased with himself. Osamu proved surprisingly easy to break once his little brother was the one being tortured. He turned over the genome sequence for the Nellis virus and withheld the rest on the claim that he'd turn it over afterwards. As this was the most progress they'd gotten out of him yet, Akihiro could afford to be generous. Everything was falling into place, even with the hitch of Ruki turning the tables on him. He had underestimated her, and though he couldn't remember all that transpired when he had her brought to his quarters, broken body parts were very telling. It was a shame; she had the kind of physical beauty that set her apart from the other candidates for his project and the brains to make for a good genetic match, but her unwillingness only meant that he would have to try other options. A lobotomy might help make her compliant; he'd have to look into it once he had what he needed from Osamu. 

Somewhere in the midst of looking up neurosurgery procedures and appropriate structures of the brain to target, Kurata got a call from his puppet of a Prime Minister. A request to view a satellite report from their deep-cover agent in Iwakuni. Curious, he marked his place and set the book aside to meet with Tanaka. The trip allowed him time to bask in the glow of his continued success. In another world, Daimon Masaru destroyed him and his ambitions, and his consciousness had been ripped apart in the space between worlds. Someone reset time, somehow, and united several Digital Worlds. While he never fully found out what happened, he understood two very serendipitous things: the Digital Worlds were functionally destroyed and no longer a danger to anyone, and only a very few people remembered the original time stream. Foreknowledge allowed him to better position himself for the opportunities that opened up in the wake of the Apocalypse, and with it he eliminated Masaru before he became a problem. However, time was catching up to him now that he was in his forties, and a king needed an heir. 

He arrived to see Itsuwa making small talk over a satellite-relayed video connection with Henry Wong, one of the few good children out there. Henry understood the necessity of authority and structure, and had kept them informed the best he could. He came to them years ago claiming to be sick of his mistreatment as the only son of a Chinese-American G.I. who had been stationed at the M.C.A.S. Iwakuni. Akihiro had been sympathetic and taken Henry under his wing, and Henry shared his vision for a new world. He understood the bullying nature of people who were stronger than him, and knew that the only thing they responded to was a greater show of force. He could only hope that his children would be as polite and dedicated as Henry.

"Henry! How kind of you to call," Akihiro began with a fondness he had for very few. "What can we do for you?"

"I've been in contact with the Iwakuni council and discovered something you may be interested in. They've been hiding a woman who was successfully treated with a vaccine before the scientists here died. I'll show you her now." Henry switched the feed to a woman around Akihiro's age, sitting in an office and playing cards with Henry's agent, Ryo. She looked up at the camera at Henry's behest and waved with a disarming smile. The feed switched back and Henry continued. "Her name is Makino Rumiko, and she was brought in before the pandemic destroyed our world. Though the data is lost, I believe you can reverse-engineer the vaccine used on her. As I understand it, the Ichijoujis were planning to do the same. They'll turn her over if you'll turn over the hostages."

Though delight almost made him grin in triumph, the pull of his cheeks sent a fresh jolt a pain through his face. "Well done," Tanaka exclaimed. "We agree. Bring her to Yagamata Airport and we'll do the exchange there."

Henry gave that reserved smile of his, and though he clearly caught sight of Akihiro's nasal splint, he didn't bring it up. Akihiro liked that about him. "I'm on it. Expect her by later tonight. Good day to both of you, sirs."

The connection closed, and Akihiro turned to Itsuwa. "Five hostages for one is a bit much. Osamu is still useful, and I would like to keep Ruki as my own special project."

Itsuwa searched his face, which displeased him all the more for the fact that Itsuwa shouldn't be thinking of questioning him. "The Ichijoujis we'll keep because they're still useful. The others can go. You can always find another pretty girl."

Akihiro grunted an acknowledgment and left. He could find another pretty girl, sure, but he wanted revenge for the injury to his body and pride. No greater revenge was there than to take away the autonomy of a self-made woman. But, perhaps he could afford to let her go, for now. There would always be an opportunity to abduct her later. He would simply have her followed.

With a distinct sense of satisfaction, Akihiro went to lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryo's full background is given in a series of four videogames for the Wonderswan: Anode/Cathode Tamer, Tag Tamers, D-1 Tamers, and Brave Tamer. His temporary partner in Tag and D-1 Tamers is V-mon, who is revealed in Brave Tamer as the same V-mon that later went to Daisuke. Also, when V-mon remembers Ryo in BT, Daisuke exhibits some jealousy that Ryo had him first. Brave Tamer is the game which reveals that Ryo's true partner is the evil god Millenniumon, that the bodiless Millenniumon jogressed with Monodramon to become Cyberdramon, and serves as the transition point for Ryo between the 02 universe and Digimon Tamers.
> 
> In both Digimon Tamers and this chapter, Ryo uses a whip move called a wrap. This is where the energy of the whip is expended in a loud crack at the end and the fall wraps harmlessly around the target. Skilled whipcrackers are able to do this without causing harm to the target. Visit bullwhip dot org for more info on how this works. This is why Ryo isn't actually hurting Cyberdramon when his whip wraps around his wrist, because the animation depicts the point where the energy expends before the wrap. Besides, armor. Come on, fandom.
> 
> Theater in Japan is complicated. The kabuki tradition originated as a women's-only theater, but was banned in 1629 for being too erotic. Men took it over and adolescent boys assumed female roles ("onnagata"), but nowadays some women do act in kabuki. Noh is an older theater form, and was also male-dominated. It's in this landscape that the Takarazuka revue began in 1913 as an all-woman theater troupe to draw in tourists. Women who play male roles ("otokoyaku") cut their hair short and learn to assume masculine behavior and speech forms. The otokoyaku presents the ideal man, without the roughness or desire to dominate, and as such are hugely popular among the mostly female audience. They are not generally truly transgender, as the role does come off. but it does transcend gender norms and that's been proposed as part of the appeal for much of the (estimated) 90% female audience.
> 
> The drug Kurata tried to slip Ruki is GHB, a sedative sometimes used for date rape that's also fairly easy to synthesize. It can also cause amnesia, which is why Kurata has trouble recalling the details of his encounter with Ruki's bad side.
> 
> The Public Security Preservation Law of 1925 was so extremely vague that it would require reams of paper just to explain the kokutei (I used the translation "national essence" but it's so much more than that)/seitai (governing body) system that birthed it. Essentially, the law forbade both forming and belonging to any organization that threatened the fabric of the national essence. The closest analogy I can come up with is McCarthyism with an unhealthy dose of 1984. There was even a thought police (the Tokkou) to investigate any claims of the presence of threatening political groups. This law was used as a weapon against dissent and was repealed in 1945.
> 
> Yersinia pestis is the bacterium that causes pneumonic, septicemic, and bubonic plagues. If you've heard of Justinian's Plague or the Black Death, you've heard of y. pestis.
> 
> Both Sonohara and Tanaka are original, because I couldn't find anyone to fit in their roles just right.


	21. March of the White Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sad it ends as it began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Genocide. Suicide ideation mention. Depression and ableism.

Ken couldn't think, move, or feel. There was a bizarre detachment from anything that amounted to sensory input, like his head had come off and was floating in a haze of ether. There was talking, though. He could hear something, though it seemed to come from a great distance. There were the muted strains of some opera, and the clattering of small metal things on other metal things, and his brother and his assistant over it all. 

"Did you read the book I loaned you?" His brother, dry and dispassionate. Osamu only really got excited when there was a new bit of knowledge he'd come across. Other people hungered for food, Osamu hungered for knowledge.

"Not yet, sorry." The woman, Juri. There weren't any jinglings that marked her movements. Maybe she took off the bangles.

"Well, I suppose it's a bit late to start." Osamu's voice dropped into storyteller mode, and Ken remembered when he was very young and Osamu translated The Silmarillion's obtuse verbiage into simple words for him. "Once there was a blacksmith, the greatest in the land. His name was Wayland. There are numerous stories, but the following is relevant to the discussion. A king named Nithad captured him and had him hamstrung, and forced Wayland to forge items for him. In revenge, Wayland killed his sons and made goblets from their skulls, jewels from their eyes, and a brooch from their teeth. The skulls went to Nithad, the jewels to their mother, and the brooch to their sister. The sister he seduced or raped, depending on the source material, and he fled on wings he made himself."

Juri's tone made Ken imagine her grimacing. "Pleasant. Are all European stories like that?"

"Most mythology is like that, regardless of the country of origin. How are Ken's vitals?"

There was some movement, and Juri hissed. "He's awake."

Then there was silence, if just for the moment. Osamu sounded apologetic when he finally spoke. "Hey, little brother? Sorry about this. I think my ratios were off. Kurata doesn't allow us to use anesthesia on test subjects. Says it's a waste. You're on a mixture of my own devising. I'll give you another dose and it should hold for the rest of the operation. Before I do, I want you to know that we will get out of here. You might not like the method, though. Katou?"

There was motion again, the sounds of which Ken couldn't quite identify, and in a few breaths he had drifted off again.

.*.

It took some doing, but eventually they got Daisuke out of his shell-shocked state and left Ryo behind to prepare Mrs. Makino for her upcoming role in their plans. That Daisuke had caught on so quickly had surprised him, for he had always thought of Daisuke on less generous terms. Nevertheless, the fact remained that Daisuke's personable nature made him fairly well-known among the various hobby groups. At this point, he had to depend on Daisuke to vouch for him and had sent him ahead to rally the troops. Or what was left of them, anyway.

Along the way to Deployment, Jianliang picked up Terriermon from the Digimon Room. Shaochung had embraced him and gone on about how she always knew he was loyal to Iwakuni, and he had to explain something of his connection with Osamu and their plans before she finally peeled off of him and let him go. Then he sent her off with special instructions to Jialin, which she was eager to deliver. His partner clung to him and chattered excitedly, and Jianliang could only afford to give part of his attention to the words. That was, until Terriermon pinched his ear for a second time.

"Jen! Pay attention! I found her! The mole!"

He stopped abruptly and asked Terriermon for clarification. The name was whispered into his ear, and Jianliang couldn't help but feel the blow keenly. Nevertheless, he had to proceed with his plan. The mole may even be useful in its execution.

By the time he arrived, there was already a small gathering. Most of them were people who hadn't gone to the Kyoto convention, mostly security personnel and agents, and the ones who came back were part of the evacuation teams. Taiki watched him as if still unsure of his allegiance, and he supposed he couldn't blame him. Or any of them. Taiki was at the head of the group with Akari ever at his side, and it was some relief to see that their partners had been knocked back to baby form rather than eliminated outright. In Ken's absence, it seemed that Sora and Taiki had stepped in to manage the base. Near the back, surrounded by her friends, was the mole. 

"I know that few of you will follow me blindly. I do, however, have one last request to make. Ken, Takeru, and Ruki have been captured by the enemy. In order to rescue them, we must strike at Amaterasu before the madman at its heart kills them. Ours is not a large attack force, but we must make do with what we have. We will start by sending a ground-based artillery force by way of Niigata, where a corps of the Shogun's finest people will be joining us —" There was an uproar over the thought of attacking a base more impenetrable than Iwakuni, and Daisuke quieted them down. "This wave will strike Camp Jinmachi. A second wave will circle and lay siege to the two entrances to Koshikidake: the first near Higashizawa Park, the second near Ichinosawa Dam. It will be the second wave's duty to ensure that no one gets into or out of Koshikidake. For this, we'll be deploying our own air force. Those who have had pilot training will be required to participate." Several people looked surprised, which was to be expected. The pilot training had been a secret weapon and only those with high security clearance and impeccable flight simulator scores were admitted into the program. "Taiki will lead the first wave, Jialin the second. We'll be taking the northwest route into the Mogami River valley. If there are any questions, please speak with Daisuke." With that, he turned and left for the isolation wards once he told Terriermon to trail Daisuke and urge him towards joining the first wave. The traitor would follow.

Jianliang didn't bother with reassuring himself, because there was nothing he could think of that could possibly make this any better. He finally reached the isolation ward, where Mrs. Makino was preparing her protective suit. She and Ryo were talking pleasantly about the mundane, as if none of them was implicit in a plan that involved genocide. Ryo had that tone in his voice that made most people think he was flirting with them, but Jianliang knew better. 

Part of him wanted Ryo to have nothing to do with this; he knew Ryo harbored a lot of guilt concerning the disease for reasons that he'd never fully articulated. However, because he was a survivor, he was the only one who could do this. Not that there hadn't been side-effects. The disease left him partially blind in one eye, almost completely numb in his right arm due to transverse myelitis, and occasional heart pain due to chronic pericarditis. As a survivor, he could perpetuate the illusion that Mrs. Makino had been cured and could walk out afterwards. Whether the contact might cause him to relapse was still unknown, but they had plans in place in the event that he did. The first, some sort of preventative antiviral that had made Jianliang's eyes glaze over when Osamu explained it at length, had already been taken by those who bore the biggest risk. The second would have to wait until afterwards. 

When the preparations were complete and he had discussed the exchange with Prime Minister Tanaka, Jianliang escorted the two through the parts of the base that he had cleared in advance. The good mood from earlier dissipated the closer they got to their destination, as if the walk drove home the reality of their actions. The skeleton crew, the home defense in case all other military and security personnel were otherwise occupied, kept the remaining population from their path. More than one of them blanched as Mrs. Makino walked by in her protective suit to keep everyone else from being infected, arm-in-arm with Ryo, but they knew to remain professional. If it wasn't the suit scaring them off, it was the sign she carried that stated that she was infected. 

In time they came to the Deployment area, which looked almost deserted now that the bulk of the fleet was on their way to Camp Jinmachi. Of those that remained, only the battered old Daihatsu minitruck served his purposes. It had just enough space for Mrs. Makino, who entered into the truck bed with its high, covered frame to hide her from view, leaving Ryo to drive. Jianliang took command of a rover that had been new just before the end of the old world and followed a hundred meters behind.

As he had expected and hoped for, it took roughly three hours of hard driving before the minitruck finally gave up just a few kilometers shy of Aioi. The gaping black maws of a kilometer's worth of tunnels loomed behind them, and they had perhaps another kilometer of open air before the tunnels appeared again. Jianliang parked in the darkness of the tunnel, hiding his rover from view, and left Ryo to the rest of the plan. Mrs. Makino used the privacy of the covered frame to get out of protective suit and into her dress. Jianliang took out his replacement satellite phone the moment he was out of the tunnel and dialed up Koshikidake.

When he was finally connected, he was routed to Kurata. The older man had struck him as rotten when they met seven years ago, but it seemed to worsen as time went on and he set his puppet into power. Teruo's unintentional sabotage of Osamu's crop of genetically engineered roses and the mutation that occurred when they tested the vaccine had the effect of reminding Kurata of his mortality, which only made him worse. It was a small mercy that Osamu agreed to take Juri under his wing, thus keeping her out of Kurata's reach. Nanami had been able to hold her own against Kurata for a while, but how long could Ruki fend him off as a prisoner? 

"Henry?" Kurata's voice was impatient "What is it?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," Jianliang affected the kind of groveling that Kurata seemed to respond best to, "but my vehicle broke down on the way to our rendezvous point. Unless I get a new vehicle, we won't be able to make it on time. I believe a Black Hawk would be able to make the trip here and back."

There was a tense moment of silence in which Jianliang held his breath. Then, finally, Kurata responded. "All right. Where are you?"

"On the Sanyo Expressway between Ako and Aioi in Hyogo Prefecture, in the kilometer-long space between tunnels. My vehicle is a 1965 Daihatsu Hijet. We can wait here for the exchange."

Kurata said nothing, but he hung up and Jianliang assumed he'd be on his way. He turned back to watch Mrs. Makino as she roped Ryo into picking roadside flowers for her, likely because she feared that touching anything would spread her disease. As the virus could survive for several hours on dry surfaces, it was an understandable fear. Though they were surrounded by mountains on all sides and their view beyond a few feet was blocked, she seemed to delight in her newfound freedom.

It wasn't until the sun was close to setting that the Black Hawk helicopter appeared above the northeastern horizon. With its high ferry range and cruising speed, it would have no need to set down and refuel anywhere along the sixteen hundred kilometer round trip, which reduced the risk of infection breaking out of control considerably. The forefront of the Iwakuni ground forces should be striking Camp Jinmachi by the time the helicopter was halfway along its return route. Everything was so carefully planned that he knew that something would go wrong.

"Ready?" Ryo shouldered an old, fading yellow bag. Jianliang said nothing as he got into position a few meters in front of the minitruck. 

The day had been hot and muggy, and it was likely to break into rain overnight. Not that that had put a damper on Mrs. Makino's spirit. She made a flower crown of the wildflowers she had Ryo pick for her, and it sat on her head like it had always belonged there. The combination of the crown and a flowing white dress almost made her look like something out of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. Mrs. Makino checked her reflection in a compact mirror she retrieved from her purse and beamed brightly at Ryo, who offered his arm and bland compliments that delighted her. Jianliang knew that Ryo was simply trying to ease her spirits before she had to spread her disease again, but he wondered whether Mrs. Makino took Ryo's inanity seriously. 

"Are you really going to take the fall for this?" Mrs. Makino was suddenly solemn as she took Ryo's arm, as if they hadn't spent the past few hours trying to ignore the fact that they were going to commit genocide. "You shouldn't."

Right. Jianliang had wanted to forget about the possible repercussions of their actions. Should they have to aswer for war crimes, they had all planned to point to Ryo as the primary mastermind and active agent of genocide. Osamu's work was too important, and Jianliang had to remain free to follow through with further plans. But, as he was so fond of reminding Jianliang, Ryo was forged by various powerful elements in the Digital World into the perfect soldier. He would take responsibility because it was his duty, and likely because he could handle extended periods of isolation in a way the rest of them couldn't. 

Ryo gave the hand on his arm a reassuring pat. "Don't worry, ma'am. I can handle it."

He didn't have an opportunity to elucidate, for the approaching helicopter soon settled a few meters away. The blades slowed to a point where speech could be heard over them, and several people disembarked. Two of them were cuffed, two had uniforms and guns, and then Kurata gingerly stepped from the helicopter afterwards. Jianliang was curious about the cast on Kurata's wrist and the splint on his nose, but knew better than to ask. Kurata hated it when anyone acknowledged his faults, and his wrath was deadly. Still, this exchange wasn't what Jianliang had proposed. 

"Where are the others," Jianliang called out. He kept his surprise off his face, though the skew of Kurata's glasses against the splint must have made it hard to focus. 

"The Ichijoujis are still necessary for my plans. Takeru would be useful for drawing out his mother." Kurata smirked unpleasantly. "Not everyone gets what they want. Once we have our vaccine, they can have the Ichijoujis. Once we take back Kyushu, they can have Takeru."

"Of course, sir," Jianliang said with a blandness that masked the panic welling inside him. He turned and gestured to Ryo, who muttered "Plan B" under his breath as they passed him. 

Ruki said nothing as she recognized her mother, but the fury on her face was apparent. Each party crossed the halfway point without touching, and Jianliang was thankful that the Makinos weren't making a scene. As Mrs. Makino drew close to the helicopter, she broke away from Ryo and wrapped Kurata in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek in thanks for saving her. Ruki sneered at the sight. Kurata was oblivious to Jianliang and his hostages now, and was the last to join Mrs. Makino and Ryo in the helicopter. It lifted off and was back in the sky before an irate Ruki took him off guard and kicked him to the ground. It was all the more impressive for the fact that her wrists were still bound in zip-ties behind her. 

"What the hell was _that_ about?" 

"You don't need to worry about your mother. Ryo will ensure that Kurata keeps his hands off of her." Jianliang picked himself off the asphalt and dusted himself off. "It's everyone else you should worry about. Once they're holed up in Koshikidake, no force on earth is going to stop the virus from spreading inside."

Ruki's eyes narrowed at him; she was clearly unimpressed. The other, whom Jianliang assumed must have been at the Kyoto assembly, looked completely lost. "And what's going to stop it from getting out?"

"A virus of another kind." He left it at that and dug through the bushes behind the guardrail for a gas can. It was time to set the minitruck on fire. It wouldn't do to have someone accidentally come across it while the virus would still be active for a few more hours. He had too much to do to risk having another snag in their plans.

.*.

The trip to Camp Jinmachi was long and boring and they had to take the massive gasoline tanker along just to keep the fleet fueled up, which ended up slowing them down further and drawing out the trip. For the most part, the Camp Jinmachi assault group consisted of rovers, jeeps, utility trucks, and as much heavy artillery as they could mount onto them. The attack would keep the package on its path, the urgency preventing any side-trips that might end up spreading the infection. The security team at Amaterasu would shut the gates against the world for three days. Ryo would then go in and upload a virus into the computer system, turning three days into two weeks so that the virus would run its course and preventing anyone without the correct password from cancelling the doomsday mode or whatever it was supposed to be. Daisuke tried not to remember. The second wave would camp out at all entryways and exits through Koshikidake and ensure that no one escaped. At the end of two weeks, provided he survived, Ryo would open the gates for them. 

Daisuke had thrown up twice from the knowledge of what they were doing; for the life of him, he couldn't think of an alternative. Even an actual, full-fledged military strike might be cleaner. Taiki, who was in on the plan, had tried to reassure him with the fact that this plan meant that they would take fewer casualties, if any, but it didn't help his mood any. So Taiki, Akari, and the digimon left him alone on the ride, and even Terriermon and V-mon were unwilling to disturb him.

They set up a temporary command post in the fields south of the Sekiyama Highway, just north of the artificial Harasaki Lake. The ducks had quacked in that offended way that only waterfowl could manage when they arrived and largely settled back onto their lake when it looked like no one was going to shoot them. He'd met Takeru when he tried to steal his ducks, he recalled. It felt like a simpler time. 

Manami was missing, like so many others who had gone to the Kyoto assembly, which left him and Taiki to plot out the strike. Terriermon kept close by to watch for the traitor he refused to name out of the understanding that no one would believe him unless they saw the traitor acting against them. Daisuke didn't want to believe that anyone within Iwakuni would want to destroy them, but that would just be their luck. 

It was around dusk when they received the call to attack from Jianliang. There was a complication: the package was picked up, but Amaterasu kept Ken, Osamu, and Takeru. The last was puzzling, because there was no reason that Daisuke could think of for them to keep Takeru. However, their part in the plan remained the same. In an hour and a half, roughly the time it would take for the helicopter carrying Mrs. Makino to reach a halfway point in its return trip, they would attack Camp Jinmachi and start moving towards Koshikidake. 

Terriermon flitted in and out of the inner circle with greater frequency the closer they got to launch time. It struck Daisuke as odd, but Terriermon gave terse "moumantai"s at him and scurried on his way. When the one working watch in camp ticked down to launch time, Daisuke couldn't think about Terriermon anymore. Akari went with the digimon to review the attack plan with the troops. He trotted off to Elecmon, who volunteered to lead the small digimon infiltration unit that would go in and fry the enemy's electrical systems while they were distracted with the main strike. He didn't need to say anything; Elecmon nodded with a grim set to his wide mouth and turned to deploy them. They disappeared into the darkness, and Daisuke trekked back to the command post. Fifteen minutes to go. 

When he approached the tent, Terriermon landed on his head and hissed at him, making him stop in his tracks. "Approach carefully! She's in there with Taiki and she's armed."

Part of Daisuke wanted to swat Terriermon off and continue on his way, because he was pretty sure no one could pull one over on Taiki. Still, Terriermon wouldn't just stop him because he felt like it, not when things were this tense. It made him uneasy, and he found himself wishing he had a side-arm on him. Instead, he edged carefully around the tent, ever grateful that the grass was still wet from an earlier drizzle and wouldn't betray him. 

"I don't get it," Senri said, and Daisuke's blood ran cold when he recognized her voice. Terriermon had to be mistaken. Senri had that poker game that was so popular and everyone talked so freely in those late night sessions. "Why are we attacking this place and not the main base? We can't hope to last."

"Better to attack on one front than be attacked on two. Besides, it gives us time to deliver the package." Taiki sighed and rolled up his map, and his silhouette straightened. "If there's nothing else—"

"Wait, what package? There was nothing in the mission briefing about a package."

"That information is given on a need-to-know basis." Taiki's voice gave no indication that he had any idea that Senri had ulterior motives. While Daisuke wouldn't have suspected anything either, Terriermon's warning and the nature of Senri's questions set his self-preservation instincts on high alert. Her silhouette moved and Daisuke inched around to the entrance. "Senri, what is this?"

"I need to know." Her arm whipped out and Daisuke could hear the click of a pistol's hammer being drawn back and setting into place. "What's the package?"

That was his cue. He whipped open the entrance flap and Terriermon dove in to wrap his ears around her face. Daisuke followed suit, pinning one arm to his chest and grabbing the other in the attempt to wrest the gun out of her hand. She slammed her heel into his instep and the back of her head into his nose, loosening his hold enough for her to break free. Taiki was on her in a heartbeat, and Daisuke tried again to grab her pistol. It went off somewhere in the struggle, and a searing pain pierced his thigh and he dropped to the ground. The pistol finally dropped and Taiki and Terriermon managed to throw her into a secure hold. Daisuke swept the pistol out of reach and looked back to see the wild desperation in Senri's eyes. 

"My parents are there! Please, if you're doing anything, I need to send word—"

Taiki looked miserable and torn; unsurprising, given the stories Akari told him. "I'm afraid," he began, and grimaced as he mulled over the words before speaking again, "that it's too late."

Two soldiers who were nearest to the tent when the gun went off turned up at the entrance of the tent. They knelt to pick up Senri, who was breaking into sobs as she was escorted away, and Daisuke's heart ached for her. Taiki stared after her, looking as miserable as Daisuke felt, and no one spoke for several long moments. Terriermon trotted to his side and stared at the blood pooling under his leg. At least it didn't feel like it hit any bone on the way out. 

"I'll send the medic," Taiki finally said, and wouldn't leave until Daisuke nodded in acknowledgment. 

Even when V-mon rushed in to see him and Terriermon tried to get his spirits up, Daisuke couldn't help but feel terrible in a way that had nothing to do with his injury.

.*.

If Akihiro's glare could produce daggers, Ryo would be dead a hundred times over by now. But he smiled back insipidly and talked to Rumiko like Akihiro didn't matter. They were resuming a vapid discussion over glam rock and X Japan and 1980's fashion and mutual crushes over someone named Freddie Mercury, of all things, and Akihiro was slowly grinding his molars to powder. He had always detested Ryo; Ryo always treated him like he was common, like he and his threats didn't matter. Ryo reminded him of Suguru, but worse. Suguru never spoke to him like he was tailoring his words just to make Akihiro feel better. Which was an absurd feeling, given that he was intellectually superior. Then there were the little things: the unnatural relationship Ryo had with Osamu that undermined all of Akihiro's attempts to get any information out of Osamu by way of psychological torture, the way Ryo could somehow walk through walls, the infernal allergic reaction if Ryo got too close to him, and the infuriating way that Ryo seemed to anticipate his poisoning attempts and circumvent them. At one point, he'd even left a cup of poisoned broth at Akihiro's doorstep with a note saying "You forgot this" and signed it with a smiley face. Yet, as infuriating as he was, he was Henry's gofer and somehow managed to be untouchable.

Just over the midway point to Koshikidake, home base sent an emergency report. Camp Jinmachi was under attack, which suggested that Koshikidake was soon to follow. It was a sound strategy, for no military commander would risk fighting on two fronts. Still, Akihiro had to wonder why they were attacking at all, and had said as much. 

"I think they were hoping to win me back," Rumiko responded. There was something familiar about the shape of her face, but Akihiro could only assume that it was because she had been a model and he might have come across a picture of her at some point. "In many ways, they're still children and some of them saw me as a substitute mother."

Akihiro grunted; whether he believed her or not, it was a foolish effort. Camp Jinmachi may fall, but Koshikidake was impenetrable. He turned on his headset to give the pilots their orders. "Go straight to Koshikidake. Do not detour. We will activate isolation mode upon our arrival."

"Roger," one of the pilots said, and Akihiro shut off the headset again and leaned back in his seat. There really was nothing to worry about.

.*.

Juri had very little in her life to look forward to. For one thing, she remembered the original timeline, before Ryo's partner went and destroyed the one of the pillars of the Digital World and collapsed several universes together in the process. She remembered Takato and his endearingly awkward crush, Leomon and his death, and the misery of being kept within the D-Reaper's kernel and knowing that it was all her fault. In later years, she had been diagnosed with major depressive disorder and took pills that only made it worse. She remembered Takato, a teenager then, telling her that he would go with her to ask the doctor to change her prescription if she needed the support. They didn't have the chance, and the world changed shortly afterwards.

It was worse, somehow, to know what should have been. The Takato of this world knew only that she had been a classmate, and Ryo said that none of the others seemed to remember anything about the time-that-was. Perhaps she would have adapted better if she had no memories of a better time. Perhaps she would not have to wonder after Culumon, or mourn Leomon even though he had never met her in this world, or grieve the loss of her friendships. But now was all she had, and she would make do.

She was in the middle of preparing a salad when the long-dormant D-Arc beeped at her. The two cockatiels, gifts from Ryo when she had come to this place and was so deeply entrenched in depression that she could barely get out of bed, chirped brightly at it in response. She paused briefly by their cage to drop off some crushed nuts on the way to pick up the D-Arc.

"Are you there?" Jianliang's voice had a hint of urgency, and Juri knew she couldn't talk in front of the birds. She took the D-Arc into her bedroom and shut the door, and the only light was the glow of the D-Arc's screen.

"Yes," she whispered. The urgency worried her. "Is your plan underway?"

"There's a complication. Kurata is keeping the Ichijoujis and Takaishi. We need you to get them supplies enough to last a week. Try to get Sonohara on guard duty. Did Mrs. Yamaki manage to get the sympathizers out?"

A wince crossed her face at the memory. Reika had argued that she had the trip to Higashine planned for months, that they desperately needed new clothes and supplies, and their chief of security fought the decision until Tanaka cleared them to go. Juri was sure that Tanaka only cleared them because Rieka was heavily pregnant and drawing more attention to the argument than he liked. "Barely. Watanabe didn't want them going out unescorted, especially with the princess among them. They're in Higashine right now. You'll want friends when you pick them up."

"Thanks." Then there was a moment of silence, as if Jianliang was actually worried about her. It was almost endearing, for all that he barely knew her and certainly didn't remember their shared past. To everyone, she was simply Doc's assistant, content to stay in the shadows until called upon. "You'll be okay cooped up for two weeks?"

The knives she had unrestricted access to were dull, and the cleaning things she had couldn't kill much of anything but microbes. Her wrists itched at the intrusive thought, and she promptly shoved those thoughts aside. "I'll be fine," she said with false cheeriness. "I've got the birds to take care of, food to last, and the hazmat suit hiding in my closet. Once the package gets here, I just have to stay in my quarters and not let anyone in until Ryo lets me out, right?"

"Right. Good luck."

The connection closed and the screen went blank, and Juri again wished that he remembered her. Not the way she was now, but the way they used to be before this whole thing started. She waited a moment in the chthonic darkness to collect her thoughts and organize the things that needed to be done on her end, then went to do what she could before the package arrived. 

The white roses, the ones untouched by Teruo and marked as failures, were to be collected. Mortar and pestle, needles and alcohol. Food, primarily dried. She stuffed the removable pot of a rice cooker into a picnic basket, filled it with a bag of rice and food that she was sure could last a few days outside a refrigerator, and hid the medical supplies and a dusty camp cooker in the gaps between the basket and the pot. She darted out to gather the roses, went back to her quarters, and bunched them into a bouquet. From the lab she stole hypodermic needles and hid them within the thorny stems, and stuffed a few vials of antivirals into her bra. By the time she had everything ready, she could barely lift the basket. 

Still, she managed. Juri hauled her load to the nearest electric cart, which she drove to the prison. Koshikidake was too big to walk the entire breadth of, after all, and one couldn't expect the wealthy and powerful to go without comfort. Sometimes the image of the wealthy sleeping on their beds of useless money amused her. The world outside had moved on without them even before Natsuko found her and took her in, and all the paper money in the world wouldn't help them survive outside anymore. 

By the time she arrived at the guard station before the prison, which was seeing use for the first time since Kurata had the re-education camps built, Sonohara Benjiro was already there. He stood guard while his superior officer leaned back in his chair and was focused more on the propaganda rag that passed as a newspaper. She felt sorry for Benji; he had been her first friend here and recently discovered that he had ogliodendroglioma, a brain cancer that couldn't be treated by the means they had available. Because he knew that he would die anyway, he volunteered to protect them should their back-up plan ever need to come into play. His reward was a box in his quarters containing a mixture of opiates and several fast-acting poisons. Once he took everything in it, he wouldn't wake up. She wished that there was another option for him, but Osamu said that the prognosis would have looked too grim even before the end of the old world. Now? How on earth would they be able to remove so many tiny tumors from his brain without killing him? They didn't have the right tools, the right training, or the right technology. So Benji accepted his fate gracefully and promised her that he would do what he could to help them. 

"Don't like my girls with head problems," the older man said when she walked in, and barely even bothered to get a look at her. Enka was playing loudly over a cassette player. "Go tell Kurata to send someone less nuts. Curvier, too."

Juri couldn't help but bristle; her depression had been secret until Kurata had dressed her down in front of an audience for some slight or another. She couldn't even remember what she'd done to set him off, but Osamu said later that Kurata was simply reasserting his power over them by humiliating her in public. Bullies needed their power trips.

Benji saw her glower and came to the rescue. "I'll search the basket for contraband, sir. This way, Miss Katou." 

As he set the basket on the table at the far wall and rifled through, the clatter of hard materials masked his whisper. "Jinmachi reported an attack just a few minutes ago. Are you sure Akiyama has what he needs to lock this place down once he arrives?"

"Yes," she murmured softly. One of his partners, he said. "He'll scramble the computer system. The magnetic locks aren't going to release until this thing runs its course. Is there anything you need before…"

"I don't want to die alone." Her friend gave a crooked, humorless smile. "Doesn't seem right, you know? No one should die alone."

Something inside her grew cold, and she detached herself before she could feel. He wasn't even dead yet. There would be time to mourn later. "I'll make sure he knows."

"Thanks." Then he stood and his voice returned to its usual volume. "Nothing unusual, sir."

His supervisor didn't look up as he waved them off. Benji took her basket and escorted her past the series of locked doors to the cells, and the magnetically locked doors gave way to low-tech key-locked doors. The paint on the bars was peeling and it flaked off to the touch. As for the audio/visual monitoring equipment, the wiring had been damaged from the earthquake from several years ago and there had never been a need to redo the wiring until it was much too late to reassign their electrician from more urgent work. 

"How's your head?" She knew she shouldn't ask, but the subject was like a scab that she couldn't stop picking. 

The shrug he gave might have been nonchalant but for the tension in his face. "Headaches and seizures are getting worse. I can't recall things like I used to anymore. But overall it's been going as Doc said it would."

On an impulse, she closed in on his free side and grasped his hand in hers. As much as she could with the key rings in the way, of course. "Before you get exposed, do you think you can come for a late night snack? I have some cupcakes that are going to go bad in a few days anyway."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." He unlocked the last door, and they walked into the group of four cells. The ones opposite of the occupied cells were useless, the plumbing having failed in the earthquake that took out the surveillance camera wiring. Tanaka had only allowed for the pipe to be fixed on the other side to keep from wasting precious water. The cell closest to her was occupied by Natsuko's son and Osamu's brother, both having been moved into it after they released Ruki and the guy with the limp. Juri assumed that Kurata chose to split Ken from Osamu in the hope that it would torment them. However, there was one concession to human decency: Ken was in a mobile hospital bed and still hooked up to a morphine drip. That was her fault, really. Kurata hated theatrics, and all she had to do was stage a meltdown in front of as many people as she could over the issue. That got Tanaka to go around Kurata and authorized her to provide what care she could. However, squeezing the bed in the cell resulted in a drastic reduction of free space. Not that she expected either of them to make much use of the little legroom they did have. Takaishi's ribs had been cracked when Kurata's most loyal thugs tried to beat answers out of him, and Ken was too pickled to do much more than sleep and recover. 

Juri left them alone for now and moved on to the far cell, where Osamu sat on the bed and was knitting innocuous code into what most people would see as a failure. Each color represented an element, each knot represented chemical bonds. Osamu said he got the idea from the Incan quipu, whatever those were. He initially used his knitting to figure out exactly which part of the Nellis virus' genome did what, and then moved on to experimenting with different molecules. 

"Hey, we brought what you needed," she said once Benji opened the cell. He entered with her and set the basket on the ground next to the bed, and stepped away to give her some privacy. "The propane camp cooker is on the side. And I brought roses. You always did like roses."

There was a satisfied glint in his sharp eyes as he set aside his knitting and reached for the roses to pick through for the needles. She pulled out the antiviral vials from their hiding place and handed them over. "Well done, Katou. Could you go check up on your handiwork while I prepare the antiviral doses?"

Handiwork. Juri might have winced in earlier years for the fact that the same word that was a bland noun in Osamu's mouth was an insult in Kurata's. In the years since she learned surgery from Osamu, she had come to realize that his dry, sometimes acerbic nature was perhaps a greater kindness than Kurata's emotionally manipulative and patronizing tendencies. With Osamu, she knew where she stood. The rare bits of praise were all the more valuable for it. She hid a shy smile behind her hair as she went to the other cell.

When she entered the other cell, she realized that the two men were awake. Part of her wanted to shy away from their curious looks, but Osamu kept insisting on calling her a doctor and she had stopped trying to argue with him long ago. She wasn't brilliant like him, but she was better at cutting and stitching, and he apparently thought that was enough to take her under his wing. For him she would play the doctor. 

"For the next two weeks, you will be trapped here. I'm going to have Sonohara leave the cell doors unlocked, but you must not leave your cells until the first week ends unless there's an emergency. All doors in the prison complex with magnetic locks will remain inoperable until the two week quarantine ends." If anyone noticed her relax as she settled more comfortably into her role, they didn't say anything. "Now, I did manage to get a peek at your chart before Kurata locked it away, Takaishi. You have a series of hairline fractures along your left middle ribs. Standard treatment is to manage the pain and watch for any signs of chest infection. If you develop a chest infection, please inform Doc. If your pain is stronger than the pills he gives you, you are free to request a morphine drip." She hoped he didn't need one, for Osamu did not have a gentle hand. "Healing will take six weeks. To prevent infection and maintain muscle tone, cough or take deep breaths at least once an hour. Now then, Ichijouji's bandages will have to be replaced at least once a day, and that's going to require a demonstration."

The next fifteen minutes were spent talking them through the process of proper handwashing and when to wash, how to pull the skin from the bandage to reduce pain, how to clean the incision and signs of infection to watch for, and so on. Takaishi was as attentive as he could be, considering his injuries, and she had been tempted to talk about his mother. But her time was too limited, and Osamu called for her before she could go any further.

Osamu held up a needle now filled with entry inhibitor antiviral drugs. A precautionary measure should someone figure out how to disable the magnetic locks. "This is for you. I'll handle the others later tonight. Hold out your arm."

Juri rolled up her long sleeve, revealing the marks of her inner struggles along her wrists. He always frowned at them, but said nothing about it because they had such impulses in common. There was a sharp pinch as the needle entered her skin, and she took the opportunity to follow an impulse. "I don't want to be alone tonight," she whispered. "Is it okay if Sonohara went off duty? At least for a few hours?"

His eyes searched hers, and perhaps there was a little hesitation in them before he responded. "Once his supervisor is off duty, he might be able to get away before Rumiko makes her rounds. Ask Ryo to key Sonohara into the system as the only other authorized user." He withdrew the needle and capped it, and she pulled her sleeve back down. "Tell Ryo to tell Rumiko that I have a cure for her. It's not an easy cure and it won't work immediately because it needs to be done in stages, but I don't want any more dying than necessary. If you need anything from my quarters, here's my key card. The pass code is 0036." Then, to her surprise, he gave her a smirk. "And, should you need it, the, ah, cure for Kurata's victims is in the lab's medicine closet, in a bottle marked 'diphenhydramine hydrochloride'. Wouldn't do to do something you might regret for longer than a few days, would it?"

A blush heated her face despite her best attempts to tamp it down, and she excused herself. Her farewell to the patients was quick, and she grabbed her friend's wrist on the way out and whispered her intentions. Even if they didn't do anything requiring Osamu's emergency contraceptive stash, they both needed a little human comfort to brace themselves for the quarantine.

Thirty minutes later and she was in the control room to wait for Ryo. The mainframe computers controlled everything in Koshikidake, from security codes to the air pumps to a doomsday system that would lock down the base and allow no one to enter or leave until the allotted time passed. It could be accessed from a console in the primary security or maintenance posts, but Ryo said he needed to be in the presence of the mainframes themselves.

He arrived roughly fifteen minutes after Kurata's helicopter turned up and someone activated the doomsday system, wearing his uniform and carrying a tattered old yellow shoulder bag with his name on the strap. 

"You'll forgive me if I avoid touching you," he said in that light, carefree tone of his that served to detract people from the fact that he was never really carefree. He was so much better at pretending than she was. "Mrs. Makino wanted a party and Kurata has to oblige. How are our caged birds?"

"Takaishi and Osamu's brother are recovering. Osamu's in prison too. For the best, I think." She paused to watch him remove a crystal pendant from his neck and insert it into a device that he had plugged into the mainframe. The lights flickered and darkened as data seemed to pass from the crystal. "Osamu says to tell Mrs. Makino that he has a cure. It will take multiple treatments over a span of a couple of months, but it's something."

"I'll let her know when I see her again. She deserves some good news." Then he looked up from his device to catch her eye. "And you? You'll be okay with the birds for a week?"

She had to look away lest the blush return. What she was going to ask was terribly unfair in light of the fact that he couldn't be with _his_ until this was over, but she had to ask. "About that. I don't want to be alone when… Osamu says you can let Ben— Sonohara get a pass through the security system. Just until dawn. And he doesn't want to be alone when he chooses to… you know."

"Not a problem." Ryo flashed her one of those fake smiles of his and tapped on the mainframe. "Got that, big guy? Sonohara Benjiro gets a security pass tonight between his quarters, Juri's, and the prison between now and six in the morning. Complete lockdown in an hour."

The lights dimmed and there was a voice in her head that was not her own. It was deep and cool, but without the impersonal nature that would have reminded her of the D-Reaper. She had no idea what it could be, but something about it reminded her of Cyberdramon. "It is done."

Juri thanked them and excused herself. It was going to be a long two weeks.

.*.

It was very sweet of them to throw her a party. Rumiko thrilled in the attention, in being able to touch people again. She kissed Kurata on the cheek again and swept up the man introduced as the prime minister in a hug. She hugged and kissed and allowed herself to be kissed by as many people as possible. She talked about the years she stayed under glass and what her life had been before everything went to hell, and some of them even recognized her from past work. Rumiko was in her element and no one was safe.

.*.

Ruki allowed herself three days to straighten out the chaos in Osaba, which included smoothing over feathers ruffled in her absence. In that time, she received reports regarding the aftermath of the strike on Kyoto. The rendezvous point at Emperor Kanmu's tomb had been raided and Renamon detoured to the Osaka harbor, where Ruki had one of the Osaba fishing boats hiding in anticipation of things going as badly as she expected. Other people had been captured, and Niigata and Iwakuni were working together to search for them. 

After chewing out Jianliang for failing to inform her about letting her mother go, she managed to guilt him into installing his communications program onto her D-Arc so that they could coordinate when to pick her up at the end of the two week quarantine. She found herself fidgeting with it sometimes, when things were slow and she was bored of looking over various accounts and reports. Of the sketches that Takato had made for her, only four of them were available on the list of contacts in Jianliang's program. Jianliang was busy with securing Higashine and handling the work camps there, Ryo didn't answer the few times she did try to contact him, Shaochung was as bright and helpful as she could be, and then there was the final name. Juri. Ruki found herself hesitating over contacting her for reasons she couldn't pin down, like something niggling at the back of her head that refused to be defined. It wasn't until the fifth day of the quarantine that she finally dismissed the hesitation as ridiculous and contacted Juri.

The woman who responded had a pleasant enough face, though it looked like she hadn't been in a good mood for a while. Given what was probably happening in Koshikidake at the moment, Ruki couldn't blame her at all. Her brown hair was in two messy plaits, as if doing her hair was an inconvenience and only done for the sake of necessity, and there was something about her that Ruki immediately recognized from other people in her life as depression. "Hello? Ruki, is that really you?"

"Is there another?" Juri gave a slight smile at that, which was reassuring. "I should have contacted you earlier. It's just been busy here."

Juri tucked a stray strand behind her ear self-consciously. "I'm just glad that you did at all. They bring me reports sometimes, but it's not the same."

"You're one of those people that remembers, aren't you?"

"More than most, if what they tell me is true," Juri replied, and she started twisting the end of a plait in what Ruki assumed was a nervous gesture. "They think it's because I was host to the D-Reaper for a while. A, um, sort of alien entity that tried to wipe us out in the other timeline."

Something teased at the back of her mind. There was a recurring dream of falling that seemed to click into place. Falling, and then warmth and an unusual sense of connection. Juri presented an opportunity to make sense of all the disconnected bits and pieces of her former life, and Ruki had always hated a mystery. At the same time, she would have to be sensitive to Juri's feelings. She didn't think she'd mind it much. "Well, I have time to talk if you do."

There was a smile on Juri's face, small but genuine. It was a start.

.*.

The first day had been such a triumph that Akihiro didn't bother checking up on the prisoners. Rumiko proved to be a friendly companion and very easy on the eyes, though Kurata didn't realize her connection to Ruki until he was feverish and so chilled that no amount of blankets could stop him from shivering in his bed on the fourth night since her arrival. At first he had dismissed it as a strain of influenza, but then the maculopapular rash appeared on his chest and both fear and panic left him hyperventilating when he realized that the Nellis virus had gotten in. When he finally garnered enough control over himself to ignore the nausea and terror, he tried to open the door to the main corridor. The magnetic lock refused to release, and he injured his shoulder in increasingly panicked attempts to force the door open. His worst fear had come to life, and there was nothing he could do but slump against the door and sob the way he did as a child, before he learned to redirect his energies into the less humiliating forms of hatred and rage.

It wasn't until he had cried himself out that he realized that his laptop computer was open and that there was a card on the keyboard. He picked himself up off of the floor as tenderly as he could and shuffled to the desk to read the card. It must have arrived while he was still in bed with fever, and only Ryo would have the ability to enter his quarters without being noticed. "Click on for-kurata.avi," the card said, and this time there was no signature or smiley face. It took a few tries to focus enough to click on the icon on his desktop, and he sneered when the video turned out to be of Ryo in the mainframe room. 

"Kurata! Hello! Assuming you're not dead yet, of course." The cheerfully vapid look disappeared, replaced by a somber intelligence that Akihiro had no idea he possessed. "I thought you ought to know why I've chosen to release Rumiko and the virus she carries into Koshikidake. Besides the obvious revenge for what you did to my favorite people, anyway. Did you really think you could get away with killing, torturing, drugging, experimenting on, or enslaving innocent people?

"That's part of it, of course. The other part is this." A darkness congealed behind Ryo into something resembling a solid form that seemed to absorb all light. Two sets of eyes appeared in two vaguely dragon-like heads. It had to be a digimon, and the flash of hatred was almost comforting in its familiarity. "This is my partner, Millenniumon. He sacrificed a great deal to rebuild the Digital World after several of them were smashed together and destroyed. We cannot allow anyone that poses a threat to that stability to run free. You understand, of course. Wiping out the opposition before it becomes a problem is a tactic you've used for your own gain."

Ryo smiled then, a friendly smile that looked out of place in light of the subject matter. "Did you know how close you were to flying beneath our notice? If you had just left Daimon alone, I never would have known to find his family and ask what a boy could have possibly done to you from so far away. He didn't remember you, but his sister did. Daimon Chika told me everything I needed to understand that you were more than a petty would-be-despot. And so we leave you, Kurata Akihiro, to justice. If you do not die from this, you will be tortured by the disease you wanted to re-introduce to the world and crippled by the complications. Alive or dead, you will be delivered to Chika when this is over. Have a nice day."

The video ended then, and Akihiro felt sick to his stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the disease coursing through his body.

.*.

Having nothing to do for days left Takeru with entirely too much time to think, mostly about himself and all the places where he'd gone wrong. He should have rolled into the river when the Koshikidake security forces were chasing him, rather than ducked into the bushes where a dog had found him. He shouldn't have resisted when they captured him and started beating him for information. Maybe there would have been fewer cracks in his ribs and less bruising. He shouldn't have let Ruki's history get to him; she didn't need whatever remnants of chivalry he had in him and he shouldn't have lost control. He shouldn't be thinking along these lines in the first place.

The too-rare distractions from his thoughts were welcome. Ken was unconscious most times, largely due to his body taking the time to recover from blunt trauma and invasive surgery. Osamu was more taciturn than Yamato on the best of days and largely spent his time preparing their food or working on something that Takeru couldn't possibly understand. When he did get Osamu to talk, though, it was usually about history. Osamu did more talking than Takeru during those times, but he didn't think Osamu minded it. Speaking too much hurt, and Osamu usually made up for his lapses. It kept them from thinking of what was going on beyond the jail. At one point, they had even managed to migrate to the other cells just for the extra room and to increase space between the beds and the toilets. Juri left them with twine, plastic sheeting, and glue-on hooks, which Osamu hung up in front of the toilets early on to prevent germ spread. Ruki's stolen cache even added a little to their supplies. 

By the seventh day of quarantine, however, their food was dwindling even after they had carefully rationed it out. Osamu was clearly giving up his own shares for them, and arguing with him about it proved futile. Takeru was in the twilight time between sleeping and waking when he heard footsteps walking down the hallway for the first time in what felt like ages. Though their triggering of his survival instincts woke him, he remained still and kept his breathing shallow. It was a reflex born of a life on the road that he never quite shed, even in the safety of his bed in Iwakuni. 

The footsteps passed him and stopped before Osamu's cell. There was no low creak of the cell door, which left Takeru to assume that it remained closed. "Hey there," the visitor said, and it took Takeru a moment to peg it as belonging to the Wanderer. There was a fondness in his voice that Takeru didn't recognize. "How are my favorite people?"

Osamu dropped his usual neutral tones for something more familiar than Takeru had expected. "Ken and Takeru — Natsuko's son, remember her? — they're recovering about as well as can be expected. Katou does phenomenal work with her sutures, so I don't expect additional scarring for Ken." There was a pause of a couple of seconds, then he continued. "I have been a little hungry, but they need the food more than me."

"You're in luck, then," the Wanderer said. He didn't sound surprised by Osamu admitting to sacrificing his shares of food. "I have a few old war buddies helping me out, and one of them will be along soon with a wheelbarrow of food for the rest of the quarantine."

Osamu's voice then dropped into a whisper. "Did you make sure they're asleep? You're blind in that eye without Millenniumon compensating for the nerve damage."

The footsteps started again and Takeru closed his eyes. That he was not surprised by the mention of a digimon was more worrying than it should be. Then the footsteps returned to stop at Osamu's cell. "Out like lights."

"Good." There was the sound of knitting needles clacking together as they were set aside, and then the creak of the bed as Osamu stood. "How are things out there?"

"Bad, but we expected that. I've got Kentarumon, Deramon, and Nanimon helping me move the bodies." _That_ surprised him. Adult-level digimon were rare in Iwakuni, and Takeru would have remembered meeting any of those in the Digimon Room. And wasn't Deramon a perfect level digimon? Did the Wanderer have access to the Digital World? "ToyAgumon has been handling the garden harvest, so you'll know it's safe when she gets here. Like I said, really old war buddies. I've known them since I was eleven."

"And how are our people?" Was there a touch of concern in Osamu's voice? Takeru couldn't tell. 

"Juri says she's been in contact with Ruki, which can only help her mental health. Sonohara died last night. I sat up with him and did a little ritual like he wanted." There was a moment's hesitation that allowed Takeru to fully parse the fact that the soldier who was sympathetic to them was dead. It was a pity, but then Ryo moved on before he could think further on it. "Mrs. Makino is… about as well as expected. I think the only reason she hasn't let the guilt get to her is because she wants to see Ruki again. As for everyone that Mrs. Yamaki managed to get out, I think Jen is still working on that."

There was a moment of silence, then he continued. "I… planted evidence in Kurata's computer. Practically a full confession about this being my idea. You and Jen can claim ignorance."

"Ryo," Osamu hissed in a voice that was heavy with disapproval, "you didn't have to do that. Very few on the winning side of a war ever have to answer for their actions."

Ryo's voice took on a placating cadence that was keyed just low enough not to be offensive. "Let's be honest. Ken is an idealist and he's going to want to start his new country on truth and justice and so on. Which leaves no room for messy complications like genocide. It's better that I take the blame. I'm responsible for everything going pear-shaped anyway, I might as well answer for something."

"Fine. Thank you for your service, soldier. That's the way you want it, right?" The words were sharply clipped, like this was an old argument that neither was willing to compromise on.

Takeru could practically hear the shrug in Ryo's voice. "Close enough. We can hammer out more of the details later. I should send ToyAgumon down before they wake. Missed you."

There was a sigh of surrender before Osamu responded. "Missed you, too."

The footsteps then returned and receded as the Wanderer left the jail. Takeru didn't have enough energy to remain awake for the digimon's visit.

.*.

Two weeks. Two godforsaken weeks of waiting for news of what was going on in Koshikidake outside of Juri's door. Ruki had no news of her mother, which kept her glowering through the process of trying to patch up the mess Hirokazu made of official relations with the head of the cheerleaders' union by way of his chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome. She was so unbearable when she wasn't talking to Juri, in fact, that people left her alone. Even Renamon only talked to her when Ruki was willing. 

The wait ended when an Iwakuni helicopter picked her up. One of the pilots introduced herself as Aiba Mizuki, and Ruki almost envied the length of her red hair. Her own she kept to shoulder length for necessity's sake. Ruki's brusque responses kept the girl's friendliness minimal and she had a couple of hours' worth of peace on the trip to Koshikidake.

They arrived at a dam deep in the mountains, where she could only see an entrance cut into the side of the mountain if she stood in the stream's floodplain and faced west at one particular point in the road. It was a narrow area with barely seventy square meters of sloping valley floor, and she had to disembark from the helicopter in a rope ladder. At the base of the dam was a series of tents, where she could see people in protective suits take blood samples from the small group of survivors. This was cordoned off by Iwakuni soldiers, and she had been let off at a safe distance from the quarantine zone. Jianliang strode up to greet her, but her attention was two people in protective suits standing in a corner and under heavy guard. Ken's brother, who looked entirely too skinny and pale in the brightness of daylight, was talking to them. It didn't take much to connect the dots.

Jianliang was shouting at her to be careful and the guards couldn't stop her when she crossed the rope boundary and darted to the corner. One of the figures was taller, but the other she embraced with a desperation she'd never openly admit to. Her mother gave a squeak of surprise and she felt her mother's arms hug her for the first time in years. A joy that was almost indescribable welled inside her, but she had to tamp it down. For now. There was something else she had to do, and she broke the hug to address the issue.

"How safe is it to go back in there," she asked, and a look passed between the two men before Osamu answered.

"I wouldn't risk it," Osamu said, and Ryo followed up with; "Whatever it is, it's not worth going back for."

The comment was frustrating and vaguely insulting for some reason she couldn't pin down. Her eyes narrowed. "That rat bastard has a trophy of some poor kid. I need to go back and destroy it."

Ryo watched her for a moment from behind the protective plastic mask in his suit. Then, slowly, he re-positioned a tattered yellow shoulder bag to his front, which he opened to pull out the shadow box. "I was going to take it back to the kid's sister, along with the great king rat's skull. But I think you're right. Get rid of it."

Ruki took the shadow box gingerly and considered his words. So Kurata was dead, and good riddance. She couldn't find it in her to feel so much as a grain of pity for him. "And what about Mom?"

"I have a cure," Osamu said, and Ruki was almost ready to reconsider any negative opinion she might have of him. "A treatment, rather. It must be done in multiple stages to attack the virus at all stages of its life cycle. I need time to prepare it, so Rumiko will have to return to Iwakuni's iso—"

"No!" Her mother's outburst surprised them with her fervor. "I can't go back in a cell anymore! Please don't make me go back!"

The men exchanged looks, and Ruki's mind jumped to her territory. The solution was there. "Toge Island. It's a rock in Hiroshima Bay. It's too steep for occupation, but there's a flat area that's been carved out that faces southward. No one lives there. There's maybe two hundred square meters that's flat enough to be habitable, but the only things there are old, abandoned boats. I can warn people away and set up a buoy system to isolate it."

"And with some rain barrels and a little elbow grease to build a shelter, it could work. I know a couple of rukamon who would be up for patrolling the sea. Great thinking, Ruki," Ryo said, his eyes alight at the unspoken challenge. He grinned at her mother. "Up for learning a little construction?"

Her mother's distress disappeared, and Ruki didn't think she'd ever seen her so happy. Heavens knew they both needed this little bit of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Ryo's comment about old war buddies is a nod to Anode Tamer, his first game and where he had a digimon army. The digimon in question are game npcs.
> 
> Quipus were recording devices used in Pre-Columbian South America, consisting of multi-colored threads that were knotted and used to record data on things like taxes, census numbers, and so on. It's an incredibly complex system and the knots may have even been used to represent more than just numerical information. To hide his information in plain sight, Osamu modified the idea into knitting codes in similar ways. One of his scarves represents the full Nellis virus genome.
> 
> It should be noted that the entire reason for Brave Tamer was that Millenniumon was trying to destroy the founding computers of the Digital World in order to rebuild the Digital World(s) in his image. Here, he succeeded and has to deal with the attendant issues of protecting his investment from other evil digimon.
> 
> This fic is not over! There's still the Empire of the Sun to contend with. However, the next chapter will involve what happened while this chapter and the last were going on.
> 
> P.S. Thanks to Akino Ame for the idea of the death masks.


	22. Interea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of scenes occurring during previous chapters.

Tailmon had misgivings about this whole thing from the start. While she respected what all the humans were trying to do, the reality was that everything she heard about Amaterasu was terrible. All the precautions in the world could only mitigate so much. Still, she respected their intent. Moreover, she respected that the humans had a back-up plan. The Kawashima clan reopened the subway tunnels and expanded one of them under the meeting place with Teppei's help, giving them an escape route just in case something happened. Through that tunnel under the field, the people would be able to escape through any one of the subway tunnels. The initial plan was to have the dignitaries meet up at the tomb of Emperor Kanmu, but Tailmon distrusted the lack of a back-up plan to that. There would always be spies and informants.

Tailmon and Agumon waited in the abandoned steel car of a train that had been parked at the entrance to the new tunnel, while Taichi and Teppei tried ignoring each other after getting on each other's nerves. In the event that troops followed the attendees into the tunnels, Teppei could collapse the earth beyond the car and use the car as both support for the earth and a bottleneck for anyone trying to get through. Alternatively, it could always be pushed back on the newly-laid bit of track until it blocked the tunnel. Either way, it became useful in a way that no one had anticipated. 

This deep underground and protected by a steel shell, Tailmon couldn't see it. She felt it instead, a brief shot of pain that felt like her head was going to split in two. It was gone as soon as it came, but the way Agumon groaned and clutched his head assured her that it wasn't just her feeling it. But what could possibly...?

The stampede that followed set aside her personal discomfort. Taichi took command quickly and as naturally as ever, and strong-armed his way to order. He was fast and efficient, pushing people into the direction of one torch-lit branch of the subway tunnel or another in the attempt to scatter them and reduce the number of potential targets for Amaterasu. Anyone who might have protested their treatment was picked up by the surly glassmaster and shoved on their way. Tailmon and Agumon kept watch on the incoming flood of people; in case someone stumbled, the digimon would have to drag them out before they got trampled in the panic. They weren't supposed to favor anyone, but Tailmon watched for Hikari while Agumon watched for Mimi. 

Mimi was the first familiar face they recognized, and Agumon calling out to her alerted Taichi to her presence. Teppei took over for Taichi as he pulled Mimi aside for a spattering of questions. Over the roar of feet and panicked human voices, Tailmon couldn't make out what was being said one way or the other. She could just make out Mimi giving Taichi a quick hug before the woman ran where Taichi pointed. Though it was a relief that one of theirs was safe, Tailmon couldn't help but agonize over Hikari. Did her partner decide to stay behind? They'd _talked_ about this, but at the same time, Tailmon knew that Hikari would sacrifice herself if it would save other people.

It wasn't until the flood became a trickle that Hikari appeared at the rear of the group. Security personnel filled in the entrance after her, and Teppei shoved past her to compact the dirt into a cap as hard as concrete. Taichi helped him shoulder the train car off the track and into the tunnel, where it would slow someone down. No one was getting in without mechanical help. Hikari picked up Tailmon and hugged her close, and all the tension of the day drained from the digimon in her grip. 

"Go to Emperor Kanmu's tomb," Taichi hissed urgently at his sister. "Mimi's with the other group. I can send Teppei and—"

Hikari's slim, work-calloused hand alighted on her brother's shoulder in that way that both reassured him and enforced her will. "Go with Mimi's group. She doesn't have Palmon with her, but you have Agumon. We'll be fine."

Taichi watched her for one long moment, then gave a firm nod and turned his attention to Tailmon. "Watch out for her."

"Always," was Tailmon's only response, and it was the only one he needed. He turned and ran to join Mimi's group, and Teppei followed him soon afterwards. Hikari took the final flashlight and began running the subway line to Fushimi and Emperor Kanmu's tomb.

The run slowed to a steady walk as Hikari and Tailmon approached the train eternally parked at Fushimi Station. Were it not for the lingering stench of human panic, Tailmon might have thought the place hadn't been disturbed for the past fifteen years. Hikari paused at the train for a moment, her face pensive over things she might talk to her partner about sometime in the future, and they continued on their way to the light spilling out of the exit. It was a short walk to the burial mound marking the emperor's final resting place, and—

And two soldiers, smelling of the soap and deodorant that was so difficult to find these days, were pointing assault rifles at Hikari as they exited the station. Hikari's hands rose in instant surrender and her face showed nothing but serenity. Tailmon, whose senses were sharper than those of the soldiers, could hear her partner's heart hammer in her chest in well-hidden fear. In the interest of playing to human expectations, Tailmon hissed like a cat at them.

"Is there anyone behind you," the younger of the two soldiers demanded. Neither of them looked very young, however. Certainly not under forty. Their faces were lined, and frowns were etched more deeply in them than cheer.

"I am the last," Hikari managed to say in a soothing voice that betrayed nothing of her true feelings. "Would you be so kind as to lower your guns? I will not run."

The soldiers looked at each other, and Tailmon stayed on all fours with her tail held high and the tip twitching in discontent. They looked skeptical, and Hikari was good enough at reading faces by now to recognize that she should continue. "I am Hikari of the Shining Star sect, and this is my cat. It is not my way to court violence."

"She is dressed like a priestess," the older soldier muttered to his companion. The muzzle of his rifle lowered, and the younger soldier only followed suit when glared at. The older soldier returned his attention to them and spoke louder. "Where did your compatriots go? There should be more of you."

The most believable lies carried a nugget of truth. "I do not know. I was not in the planning meetings." That much was true; evacuation plans were made by Zenjiro of the Kawashima clan and the Iwakuni generals and all participants were told only what they needed to know. "You may have to search the subway tunnels. What I can tell you is that I saw the last of them take the westbound branch." That was a lie; they were deliberately herded east, probably to escape by river to the harbor.

The soldiers watched her for a moment, and she and Tailmon remained unflappable under their scrutiny. Finally, the younger one stepped aside to radio his fellow soldiers and send them searching westward. With any luck, it may keep them distracted. The older one slung his rifle over his shoulder and across his back, he seemed much more respectful when the younger one wasn't watching him. "I'm a lapsed Buddhist," the man offered by way of explanation. "Can you, uh, tell me about your sect?"

Hikari's smile was genuine and warm as she folded her hands before her. "Of course. Why don't you escort me to your holding area and I'll tell you along the way?"

Tailmon didn't protest when Hikari bent to pick her up and cradle her; she would have to walk on all fours otherwise, and that made her shoulders ache after a while. Along the way, her partner's heart calmed as she explained her philosophy and won over another soul. Though Tailmon always worried about her one way or the other, there was little she could do now. Besides, Hikari had a way with other humans that assured her that they would be all right.

.*.

Renamon, or whatever she was now, raced the streets and detoured from Emperor Kanmu's tomb to straight east well before they noticed the flash of light. She saw the soldiers gathered at the subway station near it before they noticed her, and she turned under the cover of overgrowth with Takato clinging desperately to the red-and-white shimenawa. How she noticed the soldiers quickly enough to avoid them was beyond him, but he was more grateful than he should have been that she did.

He had wanted to stay, but Ruki was right. Doc wanted him to spread his cure to as many people as possible, and he couldn't do that if he was captured. At least he made some headway while he was still at the meeting; with any luck, a few of them may have escaped long enough to go back home and share the cure with their people. Doc was so smart for making the cure act like a disease. Takato didn't understand exactly what it was, but Doc said that all he had to do was stay low, keep his laptop safe until he could find someone he trusted to do something about the information on it, and make physical contact with as many people as he could. He did all of that, but he wished he could help out more.

While he was considering rejoining Hikari's flock, on the way to the docks where Ruki had Osaba fishing boats and her prize schooner hidden just in case, there was a flash of light high in the sky. Renamon's form seemed to glitch or something; the shimenawa disappeared and he was thrown into the water with the force of momentum. Her nine tails became one as she tried to skid to a halt with feet that alternated shapes underneath her until she gave up and rolled into the water after him. Without a second thought, Takato swam after her. She was twitching with pain when he pulled her arm over his shoulder long enough for her to hold on to him herself.

"Paddle your legs and arm like I'm doing," he suggested helpfully; he didn't know if digimon could swim, but Ruki would be awfully mad at him if he didn't do anything to help Renamon. She gave a quick nod of acknowledgement and followed his example, and they were both treading water to the motorized schooner waiting for them.

A dark, wind-tossed head of hair leaned over the railing of the schooner and Takato recognized it as Kenta the moment they drew close enough. There were two others, but Takato didn't know them. Kenta hollered something at them that Takato couldn't make out over the distance, and soon enough it didn't matter anyway. A chain-and-bar ladder was tossed over the side for them, and Takato urged Renamon to go up first. When he was finally on the schooner himself and the crew bundled them in towels, Kenta repeated the question.

"Was there an attack like Ruki said there would be?"

Renamon, who was shrouded in a large, threadbare beach towel that had seen better days twenty years ago, simply nodded. Takato felt there should be more, so he elaborated for her. "Ruki's instincts about that kind of thing are really good. She suspected something would happen, so she sent us away the moment she heard the scout digimon were missing. Then we saw soldiers at the rendezvous point, so we had to come here."

Kenta watched him as he spoke, his expression growing more and more grim with each sentence. Takato barely finished before Kenta straightened and addressed the crew. "Get us out of here. Full speed. Burn every bit of gas if we have to."

"Shouldn't we wait," Takato asked. They should wait! Maybe Ruki and the others would get away and they should be here in case they did. "What if we leave Ruki behind?"

The crew scattered to attend to pulling out of the harbor regardless of his words, and Takato shifted uncomfortably under his towel. Kenta answered him in a way that made him wonder at how much they both changed over the years. "She's a survivor and will get out on her own if the opportunity arises. If what she says about you is true, you're way more important right now. Now go to the cabin and stay there until we're safe in Osaba."

With a distinct sense of defeat, Takato complied.

.*.

The captives from the subway raid were split off into groups of ten, cuffed, and herded into personnel carrier vehicles. Because of her willingness to comply, Hikari was afforded the opportunity to release her pet cat before they loaded her onto the last truck. She excused herself from the soldiers, stayed within their line of sight but went just out of earshot. Still, as she lowered Tailmon to the ground and knelt with her back to the soldiers, she kept her voice at a whisper.

"Tell Taichi what happened, but don't let him get any ideas about charging in after us," Hikari said. Taichi wasn't as impulsive as he used to be, but he always had something of a short fuse when it came to her. She loved her brother, but he would ruin the careful work she was starting with Commander Onizuka. The man had so much guilt tangled up inside him for abandoning his daughter and her infant twins just before the end of the old world. If she played this just right... "With any luck, I can appeal to Onizuka's better nature and petition for better treatment of the captives, and keep them calm enough to avoid any further violence. I can't do that if Taichi does what we both know he's going to want to do."

"I know." Tailmon's ears were flat, and she clearly wasn't happy with the situation. Hikari wished she knew what words would assuage her worries. "I don't like it, but I understand what you're trying to do."

Hikari's slight smile was the only affection she could risk giving. The time for hugs was over the moment she set Tailmon down. "Be careful."

"You too." Tailmon watched her for one long moment, as if trying to memorize everything about her, then she turned and disappeared into the weeds that had taken over the shoulder of the road. As the rustling in the foliage faded, she straightened and returned to the vehicle.

.*.

If asked, Takuya couldn't possibly recount every detail of his escape. Only the fact that he'd dropped to pick up the woman who had had wings just before a rubber bullet smashed into her pelvis had saved him from being completely blinded by the too-bright flashing light. He lifted an arm to shield his face and suddenly there had been armor that had never appeared before. It was red, blazing hot though the heat did not burn him, and he plowed through the advancing forces with the woman tucked under his arm. She was too light, like she had a bird's skeleton. The rubber bullets they fired at him melted in the wall of fire he'd surrounded them with, which helped for a while. But they would surely figure out some other way to take him down. He remembered sending out a blinding flash of his own, white-hot fireballs that pulsed like living stars, and retreated into the darkness while the soldiers were blinded by them. It wasn't until later that he even thought to question why the fire hadn't burned her the entire time he carried her away, and by that time it was a moot point anyway.

Sometime during the night, his flame extinguished to take cover in darkness, he finally tired and ducked into a tatami shop a few blocks away. The woman groaned as he set her down on a tatami mat that looked slightly less mouldering and rat-eaten than the rest, and shifted to take the weight off her injury. She was still bleeding. He winced just looking at the hole in her and resolved to put off sleep until he could find a healer. All he could do was recall what he could of his first aid training and stop the bleeding. He was in the process of removing his rurunpe to get at the cleaner shirt underneath when she finally spoke.

"Grandmother Fire must love you," the woman said, her voice barely above a rasp. "Nice job with the fire."

That surprised him, for outsiders usually didn't bother to learn of the Ainu gods. So to speak. "As Kandakoro Kamuy must favor you, miss…?"

"Izumi. You?" She shifted again to stick out her hand, and winced and withdrew it when even that little effort proved too much for her. "Ugh, I think I have a fracture somewhere. Don't suppose Grandmother Fire taught you to heal?"

"Takuya," he responded, his concentration more on removing his shirt and ripping it into strips than her attempt at offering a hand. The cleanest strips were bundled into a pad before he spoke again. "I'm afraid that I've only been gifted with the use of fire. Will you be needing anything before I seek out a healer?"

She winced when he pressed the pad against the hole in her hip, stemming the bleeding for now. Her hand was shaky when it covered his, and he wasn't sure that she could place enough pressure on it on her own. But, when he pulled his hand away, hers steadied as she pressed against the pad and hissed. "The strongest spirits you got, and lots of it."

"There is only enough for ritual use," he said as he pulled out a small flask of sake from under his rurunpe and placed it next to her, "but it's yours."

He then bowed and excused himself to seek out one of several exits that the tunnels would have led to. With any luck, he'd find someone who knew enough of medicine to remove the bullet and close up Izumi's injury. If all else failed, he could always attempt cauterization.

It wasn't long before he came to the conclusion that further searching would prove detrimental to Izumi's well-being. Halfway to the primary rendezvous point, the tomb of Emperor Kanmu, he heard the even, rhythmic clapping of military boots on pavement. Half of him wanted to charge in with fireballs blazing, regardless of the chances of him getting shot, but Izumi was going to bleed to death if he didn't get back to her. He would have to cauterize the wound and hope for the best. He tracked back to the tatami shop and eased inside.

She was pale in the dim light of his small fireball, her long hair in a dirty tangle on the mat and her fingers trembling where she held the pad against the wound. The bottle he left her laid on its side, having been knocked over at some point in his absence. There seemed to be just enough left to irrigate the wound. Just thinking about what he was going to do made him cringe inside, but he had to do something. He placed a hand lightly over hers, as much to settle his own nerves as to settle hers. "I'm going to try something, but it'll hurt. Do you need anything before I start?"

"Something to scream in." How she could retain a degree of nonchalance in her voice when it was so shaky, he had no idea. Still, he bundled up his ceremonial rurunpe and offered it to her. It was accepted with a grateful grunt and she buried her face in it. It would probably be ruined by the end of this venture, but his wife wouldn't mind. He steadied himself with a breath, then two, then three, and reminded himself with each breath that he'd dug out arrow points from deer flesh before. This shouldn't be that much different, right? Just cut the bullet out and cauterize the wound. He could do this.

Five minutes later and her screams were muffled in the clothes his wife made as part of their courtship. Ten minutes later and there was a rubber-coated bullet lying in a pool of blood and sake on the mat, and a scar in her hip that she would probably have forever.

.*.

The liberation of the city of Higashine occurred a week after the defeat of Camp Jinmachi. Not so much because the battle and siege took more than a few hours, but because Taiki insisted on waiting for the hostages from the Kyoto convention to be delivered to the work camp on the city's northern outskirts before swooping in and liberating it. Attack too soon, or allow them to discover that Camp Jinmachi had fallen, and there was a risk of the hostages being rerouted elsewhere. So Daisuke put up with the torture of waiting, and he might have been driven up a wall or ten and taken V-mon with him in the meantime.

They had a little inside help, at least. Once Jianliang rejoined them and explained himself to Taiki (something about being a double agent working for Osamu? Daisuke could only listen in to so much before Shoutmon found him and chased him off), he'd helped them get in touch with a very pregnant insider that he'd introduced as Mrs. Yamaki. She helped them perpetuate the illusion that Camp Jinmachi and Koshikidake remained free by acting as the only point of contact with the camp. The excuse she gave them for the silence was that the radio systems were finally down and she was given the opportunity to serve as a messenger because, well, they know how Tanaka is about emotional women. Apparently the supervisor of the work camp bought the whole thing hook, line, and sinker.

While they waited for the final few vehicles to arrive from Kyoto, the Iwakuni forces started processing the entire population in the area. Enemy military personnel and other unfriendly types were sent to Niigata, where Kouichi had a camp built for prisoners of war. There was a camp to the far west of Higashine, roped off with electric fences about ten miles away from the population center, that was marked with a biohazard sign. With no way to discern what was going on, Taiki had the place put under heavily-enforced quarantine until they got some answers. The more sympathetic people who had escaped Koshikidake were generally allowed to go where they wanted, though Jianliang might have swooped in and spirited off a teenage girl in a helicopter. Daisuke had no idea what that was about, and he didn't have Takeru to bounce ideas off of. V-mon just gave an unhelpful shrug. A bit of asking around and all he could get was that the girl's name was Suiko. The city natives were largely left alone once they routed out potential saboteurs.

Processing and acting as a go-between for Taiki and the various people living in Higashine kept him busy, and more often than naught he was so glad to collapse at the end of the day that his cot might have even been described as comfortable. Still, there were moments when he missed his friends. Senri was gone, taken to the p.o.w. camp until they could take her to trial. Takeru was somewhere in the hell that was Koshikidake and reliving the Apocalypse all over again. V-mon said nothing when Daisuke held him close during those moments, and Daisuke was grateful for his silence.

When at last the time came for the liberation of the work camp, Daisuke and V-mon were at Taiki and Shoutmon's sides as the place was seized, the officers cuffed and sent away to Niigata, and its prisoners liberated. Some of them had been there since the start of the place and were so emaciated that it was a miracle that they could sit up. Others were recent and sent because of some man named Kurata. Daisuke tried not to look at anything for long because he knew it would haunt his dreams. His eyes slid over haphazard graves and he tried not to think of how many funerary slats there were leaning behind those graves.

"At least there aren't any gas chambers. Or, crap... Ever hear of Pol Pot?" Taiki's voice sounded far away. Daisuke wasn't sure he wanted to know what he was talking about. Even thinking of talking felt inappropriate. "It could be a lot worse."

Frankly, Daisuke wasn't sure how anything could be worse than this.

.*.

It was late when Chika finally arrived to her hovel, and much too close to curfew for her comfort. Her fingers were stiff and sore from hours at the loom, her gut felt hollowed out by starvation, and she couldn't remember a time when she wasn't sick from the processing fumes. She could barely muster up the resentment she usually felt when her eyes fell on the obligatory shrine to the Nine States of the Empire. The banners on either side of the printed portrait of the Emperor proclaimed his glory and heroism in rescuing Kyushu from its inevitable descent into barbarism, and the ornate black brush script against paper that had gone yellow-brown with age gave Chika the sense that she might as well be looking at funerary slats. The print itself showed an adult man, probably in his thirties, with a classic Japanese face and two long, jagged scars that emerged from his left temple, down his eyelids, and only the more medial of the two scars went on to end at his jaw. She heard it was an old battle injury. His black hair was pulled back neatly, and his smile was almost fatherly. If it wasn't for the fact that he was a tyrant, Chika almost might have thought of his countenance as angelic. At times she wondered if he even existed, because she certainly had never seen him. He lived in a castle in the foothills of Mount Jikkoku, far from floodplain-dwelling laborers like her.

On her way to the shared dorm fridge, Chika almost tripped over her roommate. "Husband", technically, as dictated by the state, but neither of them had any desire to consummate the union. He was simply the least threatening of her options; she covered for him when he was visiting a boyfriend, he covered for her when she disappeared some nights. Together, they kept Puwamon hidden and out of the draft. Chika had lost too much already; losing Puwamon to the draft would only be the straw that broke the camel's back. According to everything she heard, digimon never went back to their partners after being drafted into the Emperor's army.

When she finally found her plastic container of cold beans and a couple of onigiri, she went to the closet to sit in the darkness. "Puwamon? You awake?"

"Now I am," her partner squeaked from somewhere in the shelves above the trunk on which she sat. There was fluttering and a surprisingly hefty ball of fluff settled on her knees. He'd always had better night vision than her, and he quickly found the onigiri she offered. "There was someone here earlier. They left a message with him, but he's asleep now."

That perplexed her. Usually the messages came to her somewhere at the textile mill. "Do you know what it was?"

"Just to meet Number Two at the tertiary meeting place when the moon is highest. He said you'd know where to go." Then he dove back into his onigiri, leaving her to mull over the words. The third meeting place was the Odachausu burial mound, which was relatively close to her. She could take the log that served as her raft up the Satagawa tributary and spare her energy for the walk to the mound. Still, she would need energy in the first place. When he finished with his onigiri, she started on her beans. It was hardly enough, but it would have to do.

Two hours later, a log ride, and a hike later, she hid in the dolmen that led to the innermost chambers of the keyhole-shaped barrow. The stone entrance was as far as she was comfortable in going, but it was enough to hide them from view of anything but the most dedicated of search parties. They waited in a silence that was only alleviated by the songs of crickets.

 By the time there was a change in the background chirping of crickets, the interruption of an owl that wasn't native to this part of the country, Chika had drifted off. She was woken by Puwamon nipping at the soft skin inside her elbow. Her partner fluttered off her lap to scout and chirped an all-clear signal a few minutes later. Reluctantly, Chika crawled out from within her stone shelter and got to her feet. It was so muggy that the cuffs of her trousers were still wet.

She frowned when she finally saw him, an unfamiliar man about her age. His shaggy hair fell over one eye and his undyed tunic was two sizes too large, and he held some sort of box tucked against his side. "Who are you," she asked. She trusted Puwamon's instincts, but she was still reluctant to trust a stranger just yet.

"The new Number Two." His face betrayed a certain reluctance of his own. It didn't seem like he wanted to be there any more than she did. "There was a raid on Headquarters. The old Number Three escaped to reorganize the cells. He's not in good enough condition to continue the cause, but…"

For all that she was tired and jaded, her heart sank. Without leaders, the resistance against the self-proclaimed emperor would collapse. Not that their prospects were promising to begin with, but they had to do something. Her arms wrapped around herself, and she suddenly felt very alone. "So who's Number One?"

Number Two's lips pressed into a line that seemed to disappear in the dim light of the stars, and his eyes searched hers. "You are, Number Twelve."

Chika felt a distinct sinking feeling. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised; her responsibilities had been increasing for a while. Still, maybe she heard him wrong. "I know I'm Number Twelve—"

"You misunderstand—"

"No," she cut him off before he could continue. "I just didn't want to believe it. I'm not in the right place for such responsibility."

He shifted his burden to the other hip before he spoke again. "We're moving you to a seamstress' workshop in inner Asakura. It'll be mostly menial labor, but it will also put you closer to the Emperor's castle. A double will fill in for you when you are needed for our purposes. Your, ah, husband will be reassigned to the propaganda press. It would be prudent that both of you continue the act."

Though she tried not to let it show, she was sure that Number Two noticed her grimace as a fatal flaw showed itself in his plans. In the Empire, a woman gained rank through living up to what was expected of patriotic ladies of the Empire. Which meant that she should have a child, or be expecting one. The Empire, after all, espoused traditional values to the point where it felt like she was living in the Meiji period. "Just one thing. Unless some deity has been having their way with me in my sleep, I'm not pregnant."

"Hah. No, but your double is. She will attend to the tests and collaborate with you on any questions you may have to answer. Your move will be next week, and Number Sixteen, your double, will meet with you in your new home. It will have a space modified for Puwamon to avoid the patrols, and we lined the house with lead to protect him from the scanners."

"Thanks." Puwamon drooped on her shoulder at the thought, which she couldn't blame him for. Hiding was awful. "Anything else?"

At that, Number Two presented her with a box wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped it, and her breath caught in her throat. Nestled in a pile of ashes and what looked like wood chips were a scorched skull and a note. It was impossible to read in the darkness, and she fished in her pocket for a lighter. "A gift from our friend in the North. Koshikidake has fallen."

" _'I know that this doesn't make up for everything he did,'_ " Chika read, and was grateful for the abruptness of the letter. The less time she spent with an open flame, the better. " _'But here is Kurata's head, as promised. An associate destroyed the death mask he made of your brother's face, feeling that its continued existence was inappropriate. We would appreciate some distraction while our people organize. Ever at the service of the greater good; Akiyama Ryo.'_ "

The flame flickered out and it took a moment for Chika to adjust again to the darkness. Still, she held Number Two's attention. "Time to make things inconvenient for the Emperor, isn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: There's a reference to the original 1960s show The Prisoner. The self-proclaimed Emperor is practically giving himself away. The Emperor's name is 金仁; Kanehito, Emperor Gyouichiro (暁一郎). The first name has the same beginning kanji as Venus, btw. If you know your Western symbolism and mythology, you already know who he is. Imperial name (Emperor Gyouichiro) translates to son of the morning. Grandmother Fire (full name Apemerukoyan-mat Unamerukoyan-mat, also known as Kamuy Fuchi) is one of the most important spirits/god figures in Ainu culture, and Kandakoro-kamuy is master of the skies. Takuya's wife is whomever you want them to be, I didn't really have anyone in mind.


	23. Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the genocide of Koshikidake, the Empire of the Sun begins to take steps towards filling the power vacuum. Takeru receives some bad news, and Ken and Ruki attempt once again to build a nation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter was edited to include new sections a few months ago. Please go back and reread if you haven't already.

With her mother now safe on Toge Island, Takato shuttled off to Hiroshima Castle, her people returned from the Higashine work camps, and Hirokazu gladly handing command back to her, Ruki allowed herself a little rest. She had taken the time to process Kenta and Renamon's various reports, reviewed what work remained for her, and chose to lean back in her leather executive's chair and let her mind wander. 

The jasmine tea that had gone cold in the mug on her desk was the last of a shipment from Ryukyu. Ships were going missing somewhere between the Amami port in Ryukyu and the port town of Sukumo in Shikoku, and Osaba was starting to feel the pinch of reduced resources. She had a probable cause, too: the Empire was growing bold now that Amaterasu was no longer a viable power. Taking out the trading ships was a clear act of aggression against the Ryukyu Kingdom, Osaba, and Iwakuni. Perhaps the Empire was choosing to strike before Ken's alliance became any stronger. She doubted that Ken was aware of the situation, as he was still in Higashine. It was something she would have to bring up. But first, she needed more than just the fact that a couple of ships went missing.

Reluctantly, she pulled her feet off the desk and rose to review her attire. She would need to swing by her quarters, first. Renamon's blue eyes glinted from the shadows in a motion that Ruki had learned to identify as her trying to catch her partner's attention without being overt about it. "Renamon, I'm going to go visit with the cheerleaders. Keep an eye on things here."

Renamon's head dipped in acknowledgement, and Ruki left to exchange her hole-riddled t-shirt and patched-up jeans for a more presentable button-down shirt and dark slacks. It was too warm a night for the blazer, but she shrugged it on anyway. Normally she wouldn't have bothered, but the cheerleaders' building was only a few blocks away and the madam had a thing about aesthetics. 

She left the guards with instructions and went out the back gate, and the peacock blue paint on it flaked under her touch. Something else that needed to be addressed when there was time. There never seemed to be enough time these days. At least there was light, and it burned an orange-yellow at the street corners they hung over. The solar panels the Lighthouse Keepers had guided her to were working like a charm, and her geeks worked with Iwakuni's to wire them up at the most populous neighborhoods in short order. There were lights in some of the apartment buildings again; the red brick front of the Kusunoki Lions apartment complex that she walked past was lit up from within and the smell of roasting vegetables and boiling noodles wafted from an open window. It housed an even mix of the geeks and her posse and the families they'd created over the years. Save for Airu's house and the protective wall shielding it from view, the quality of the buildings diminished the closer she got to the ferry dock and park-turned-marketplace situated along the Ota River. Something else she would have to address. Then, finally, she came to the triangular block that housed both the brothel and the apartments the cheerleaders occupied when they were off work. The one house on the block was reserved for Airu's oiran, her most elite women who had enough prestige to reject clients at will. 

The brothel's main entrance was through a former French restaurant that occupied the ground floor of a five-story apartment building. Airu had had several of the storefront windows papered over with a thin rice paper that protected her clients' privacy while still allowing shadows to insinuate. To Airu's credit, she kept the exterior a tasteful blue-on-white despite her taste for eye-searing pink. The sign that read "Suzaki Pleasure House" was black ink on a pink traditional lantern that hung outside the entrance, and it glowed brightly in the dark. She could smell food being cooked inside, because Airu preferred to cater to all pleasures and the brothel doubled as a pub. The interior was dimly-lit, and red accents were almost black against the white that plastered the walls. Orchids and lilies hung from the window lintels, and sprays of red carnations and poppies were at the center of each table. A few clients ate around the small round tables, ignoring everything but their food. A couple of guards lingered in the corners, and it appeared that the other two were on patrol. The sex workers awaiting clients lounged around a table towards the back, and all but the tayu and oiran wore garish pink and orange cheerleader outfits. The higher-class workers, the tayu and oiran, wore more subdued kimonos. A couple of them even played enka music on traditional instruments. One of the tayu looked up at her, and she gave a barely perceptible nod. That one she had business with later.

The maître d'hôtel was Airu's daughter, of sorts. She was an orphan born after the fall of the old world and adopted for her accounting skills, whom Airu had taken a liking to and was training as her second-in-command. She sat on her high stool at the reception desk and oversaw all proceedings, and very little escaped her notice. Unlike the sex workers, she was dressed in a somber, navy-blue business suit and her long black hair was pulled back in a tight bun that made her look older than her fourteen years. The one mark of her employment was the eye of a peacock feather pinned to her lapel. Her sharp brown eyes settled on Ruki immediately and softened with recognition.

"Why, good evening, my lady," the girl said. She leaned forward to whisper to Ruki. "Will you be wanting your usual?"

If nothing else, the girl was discreet almost to a fault and kept the clientele's various proclivities and preferences to herself. In a few years, Ruki would have to see about making a better offer than Airu for the girl's skills. "Business first. Is Airu available?"

"She's in her office. I'll have the chef fry up some tempura for you." The girl made a note in her ledger and waved her to the back. Ruki slipped her a small box of chocolates for her discretion. It had been a pain to import the raw cacao, and a bigger pain for her compound's chef to learn to process into edible chocolate, but it was worth it. 

If Airu had been restrained in her decoration choices for the public front of the brothel, she let herself go with her office. There were brightly-colored stuffed toys sitting on every surface, pictures of kittens and overly cute anime figures taped on the canary-yellow walls, and a disco ball hung next to the ceiling light. The disco ball scattered the light it reflected from Airu's candles onto every available surface, tinting everything the light fell on with flecks of golden glow. Suzaki Airu herself was reading some trashy romance manga or another as she slurped down her miso soup, dressed in that blinding pink she favored and looking like she'd had no intention to move any time soon. The glare Airu shot Ruki confirmed her suspicions, but she went ahead and settled on the velvet-upholstered couch anyway. 

"Got some time to talk business?"

Airu set her spoon and manga aside and drank down the rest of the soup, then moved to pour a cup of tea for Ruki. She accepted it with a mumbled "thanks" and sipped. "Whatever it is, I'm not responsible."

If Ruki had been here to address some slight or issue someone had with the brothel, she wouldn't have believed Airu's words. As fluff-brained as Airu might appear sometimes, she was a master with traps of every kind. Mind games were practically her bread and butter, and Ruki appreciated that enough to be wary of their meetings. "Different business. When things settle down at the Rocky Country, I'll be heading back to continue my work."

"It's a gamble." Airu watched Ruki as she sipped her tea, and her brightly-painted nails drummed out her discontent on the worn-down wood of her desk. "What makes you think the other powers are going to want to try again after what happened?"

"Since the Ryukyu Kingdom organized and consolidated, they've been our best source of goods from China and southeast Asia. The king has always been a fair and reliable trading partner. That his ships have gone missing is an early warning that the Empire is on the move. We've both heard the rumors that come out of the Empire, and it's in everyone's best interest to consolidate our power and defend the front lines should the Emperor decide to move against us." Ruki took a moment to sip and consider what followed. Revealing too much to Airu was always a risk, but in this case, they had mutual interests. After all, the bulk of Airu's business came from the docks. "I don't want to be caught off-guard."

Airu watched her carefully, and Ruki could almost hear the gears going inside her head. She would try to find any way to benefit from anyone's misfortune, which Ruki could appreciate on a purely theoretical basis. On a personal basis, Ruki misliked having to be on her guard all the time. "Let's say this coalition gets off the ground. How do you expect to fight an empire that was only waiting for the right time to expand? _No one_ is trained for a war, not anymore. The Empire has been organizing for years, to the best of my knowledge. How are you going to get a bunch of conflicting interests organized enough to challenge them?"

And that was why Ruki swallowed her pride to talk to Airu and put up with the madam's quirks; Airu could find holes she overlooked. "I give them good reason to consolidate under one flag. Terror has always been a good incentive. Which is why I'm here. I need any sort of evidence your cheerleaders can find to present to the upcoming meeting. Bag me an informant, if you can. Anything that can help my argument."

"Sure." Airu gave an exaggerated shrug that made the sequins on her bright pink blouse sparkle in the candlelight. "But only because what I do hear about the Empire scares the shit out of me. I'll meet with the ones I trust and let you know what we find. You'll offer safe haven to any informants that may step forward, I trust?"

"That's a given. Thanks."

Tacky costume bangles clinked together as Airu stuck her hand out for her payment, because she would never meet with anyone without payment. Grudgingly, Ruki reached into a pocket for the ring she had Teppei reshape to Airu's size. Ruki was pretty sure the stone in it was a diamond, and pure greed glinted in Airu's eyes as she snatched it up. Airu turned it this way and that under the candlelight until she was satisfied, then slipped it onto a finger. "Always a pleasure doing business with you."

Whatever Ruki might have said was interrupted by the girl, who entered Airu's office with the tray of vegetables tempura. Before the girl could bother herself further, Ruki rose from the sofa and took the tray herself. "Goodnight, Airu. I trust that will cover tonight's expenses?"

The titter that followed was almost obscene in its insinuation. "Darling, you're _always_ welcome to partake of all the pleasures we can offer. On the house. Goodnight. Don't run my treasures ragged, now."

Ruki congratulated herself for suppressing her instinct to roll her eyes. Had she not had one last bit of business to conduct here, she would have gone home and taken the tempura with her. But she nodded to the cheerleaders she knew as she entered the stairwell at the back of the former restaurant, which took her up to the apartments. The seventh door down from the first flight of stairs had an orchid tucked into the door knocker. This she plucked as she opened the door and entered. 

The tayu who used this apartment was a pretty, quiet young woman who called herself Jauzi. Whatever her real name was, she never told anyone. Her skills as a listener and a practitioner of traditional Japanese music had earned her the rank of tayu, and her grace cemented her position. She sat on a floor cushion as she plucked away at her seventeen-string koto, and the colorful kimono of her trade almost dwarfed her. The room was decorated as traditionally as it could be, considering that the original floorplan was Western in design. Ruki was sure that the flower arrangements that accented the room meant something, but she'd never learned ikebana. Jauzi barely acknowledged Ruki's presence, and did not speak until Ruki locked the door and joined her on the tatami-covered floor.

"It is a lovely evening to be out," Jauzi began, her fingers curling together in her lap as she paused in her playing. "Will it be business as usual, my lady?"

"I'd like my report, first. Tea can come later."

The fingers returned to their places on the koto and began plucking away in some traditional song Ruki couldn't possibly identify. Jauzi's soft voice took on the intonations of a song, but the words were crafted to relay the critical information Ruki needed from her finest spy. "My good mistress has yet to break her agreement with my queen, to her credit. We flowers prosper under her, despite her. But all is not well in the fields flung afar, and there is discontent. Others wonder whether this union will be beneficial to all, and they will bring discord to the chorus. The birds tell this humble girl that serpents will be sent to instill further discord. My queen would do well to be wary of these creatures' silver tongues. The fish tell this one that he who would be the sun continues to force the willows into ill-fitting molds. The willows are too bent from the strain; few would dare to leave."

Jauzi's voice then segued into a real song, leaving Ruki to nibble on her tempura and ponder the meaning behind her symbols. If she understood correctly, she could expect the Empire to send one of their agents to the upcoming coalition meeting. Winning over the Empire's denizens wouldn't work, they had been beaten and bowed under the strain of their work that they would be too terrified to abandon the Emperor. But Ruki knew people, and she knew that there would always be malcontents. "Surely there must be some resistance."

"Like mice in the field, they are wary," Jauzi replied in her song-like intonation. Her fingers never strayed from the koto's strings. "Should my queen whisper promises she can keep, perhaps the mice will come out from hiding."

"Then tell your fish and your birds that we will protect those mice that come forward. But take care not to let those words fall into the wrong ears. We'll need all the allies we can get, especially on the inside." Ruki, finished with her tempura, set her chopsticks aside and caught Jauzi's eyes. It caused the tayu to pause. "Airu has been instructed to keep an ear out for potential informants and to extend a hand to shelter them, but she won't hesitate to protect herself first as soon as she gets the first whiff of danger. Keep an eye on her for me."

A thin, graceful smile appeared on Jauzi's face, and she removed the plectra and folded her hands in her lap now that their business was mostly concluded. "I always do, my queen. Would you like some tea?"

Ruki nodded, and Jauzi got up to prepare the thin green tea they would share. As the tayu busied herself, Ruki slumped and hoped that Ken appreciated the work she was putting into protecting this dream of his.

 

.*.

There was too much going on, even two weeks after the prisoners stepped out of the tomb that Koshikidake had become. Ken hadn't authorized the liberation of Higashine, and he couldn't pin down his generals long enough to get a status report. While he was proud of the fact that they could function without him, a small part of him wished that they had told him their plans, first. Yet Taiki and Daisuke were a highly effective team, Jialin and Sora managed Iwakuni well enough without him, and Manami was already telling people what to do the moment she was freed from Kurata's work camp. That the management staff of the work camp surrendered without argument was astonishing, and moreso was the fact that the priestess, Hikari, had managed to talk them into it. She had turned out to be a highly skilled negotiator, and Ken put her name on the list of people to ally with. Not that he had to time to meet with her. 

At some point before Ryo returned from setting up Rumiko in her new island home, Jianliang seemed to have abducted a girl and fled. Osamu claimed ignorance the few times Ken could find him alone and Juri made herself scarce. Upon his recent return, Ryo simply smiled at him and said cryptic banalities and derailed Ken by turning the conversation onto his welfare. That everyone that Osamu associated with seemed determined to keep Ken in the dark bothered him deeply. When Ken finally tracked his brother down again, Osamu was planning out the scrubbing of Koshikidake with his _limpet_. At least they were talking business.

"—That said, I think we should only employ digimon who haven't been in the real world for this. It may not be prudent otherwise, if you're right about the long-term effects of real world physics on them. This virus hasn't been observed jumping species yet, but I don't want to risk it in light of—"

Ryo straightened when Ken entered the tent, which made Osamu look up from the tea he was leaning over. There was no reason for them to be sitting next to each other at a folding table, yet… "What's that about digimon? I thought the portal to the Digital World was closed."

Osamu looked like he'd sucked a lemon, which he usually did when Ken asked something he didn't want to answer. The welcoming smile Ryo plastered on the moment he noticed Ken's presence fell away to something akin to uncertainty. His hand went up to rub at a large quartz crystal pendant in something Ken could only guess was a nervous gesture. The two glanced at each other for a moment before one of them finally cracked. 

"The Digital World is… unstable right now," Ryo began. There was something odd about his right eye. It didn't quite focus on anything. His thumb worried at the pendant as if it had all the answers. The crystal itself was strange; the surface was clear down to a few millimeters, but at its center was a black shadow that seemed to absorb light. Sometimes the shadow looked like it moved, but that was probably just Ken's overworked mind playing tricks on him. "In the interest of letting it stabilize and integrate, the portals were closed to keep certain unwelcome individuals out. Two of them have been taken care of, but according to reports, one may still be at large. No one knows for sure because the collapse resulted in too much destruction for anyone to make an accurate assessment. More to the point, no one from that world remembers anything. The only things to go on are legends." 

That only opened up more lines of inquiry for Ken. Remember _what_? What did he mean by 'unwelcome individuals'? How did Ryo gain access? But he would have to keep on track, because he knew Ryo and Osamu would redirect him if they could. "Right. Now what was that about using digimon? And species jumping?"

"Koshikidake has equipment I need in order to continue my work," Osamu began in that authoritative tone of voice, "and I won't be able to complete Rumiko's small molecule anti-genomic treatment without it. I'll need either digimon or a properly trained task force to help me decontaminate the place."

Ken was lost on 'small molecule', but he did understand decontamination procedures and the need for them. "I can get a team together."

"I'd rather not risk it. The digimon will be safe because the virus will have no cell receptors to attach themselves to. All they'll need to do is remove any remaining bodies, disinfect the equipment I need and bring it out, and sit through quarantine until they're cleared to return to the Digital World. We can do a complete decontamination later." It all sounded so reasonable and perfect coming from Osamu. Ken had learned not to trust reasonable and perfect. Something would always go wrong. 

"At least see to it that they're supervised."

"Of course." Osamu glanced at his companion and his expression softened. "Ryo, if you'll be so kind? I'll give you a list of what I need later."

"As you wish." Ryo got up and excused himself, and Ken was left with his brother.

He didn't quite know what to say now that they were alone. They barely said anything to each other in prison, though that was mostly because Ken spent his time unconscious and recovering. After the dust settled in the aftermath of the genocide and their release, it seemed like Osamu was deliberately avoiding him. The silence stretched until Osamu finished off his tea and started getting up himself. 

"Are you going to come back to Iwakuni," Ken asked at last. "Your room is still available."

Osamu shrugged and studied the leavings in his teacup. "Perhaps. I don't know. There's too much to do now that I don't have to sneak behind Kurata's back. Completing Rumiko's treatment is paramount; if it can cure her, it will be a model for any other outbreaks."

"You can do all that at Iwakuni. There's enough space." Ken wished his brother would look at him. It felt too much like Osamu was hiding things again.

Osamu finally looked up and studied him instead. He looked exhausted, like he had been running on fumes for years. It wasn't so obvious in the artificial lighting of Koshikidake, but in daylight the shadows under his eyes were apparent. There was white in his hair and the lines of worry and concentration permanently notched between his eyebrows, even though he was too young for either of these elements. He was too skinny and pale, and his skin drew tight over bones and sinew. But the fierce, almost blinding intelligence still resided in his eyes, and Ken supposed that had to count for something. "When there's time. I need to touch base with the research group in Hiroshima, first. If I am to return, it should be made clear to everyone that I will never take up command of Iwakuni again. Under no circumstances will I abide any attempts to undermine your authority."

Something inside Ken deflated a little at that. Perhaps he had hoped that Osamu would come back and take all responsibility off his hands and let him live like a twenty-something kid was supposed to. But he remembered how burned out his brother was towards the end of his rule at Iwakuni. "You were working on this thing while you were still in command, weren't you?"

"Among other things, yes." Osamu's thumb rubbed along the rim of his teacup; it was an echo of Ryo rubbing at the pendant. Ken wasn't sure if his brother was even aware of what he was doing. "I can't do it again."

Suddenly Ken was nine years old again, playing at being king while Osamu worked himself to death in the effort to live up to all the expectations placed on him. While he was caught up in his own self-pity, Osamu had cut off most of his friends because he didn't have time for them. His brother had always been working for something Ken never understood, and it never showed more strongly than it did now. His brother should be tall and healthy and better off than him, not this shell of a human being. Moments passed in silence as Ken tried to think of some way to get his brother to stop, if just for a little while. The only things that came to mind were the people who should be facing repercussions for their actions. However… "Jianliang and Ryo were working for you, weren't they?"

Osamu watched him with those too-sharp eyes in the effort to figure out his angle. Then, seemingly satisfied, he shrugged. "For the most part. I trust them to do what needs to be done without my input."

"Come home and rest for a week, and I'll overlook everything they did for as long as I can." He didn't want to. He wanted to lash out at them for hiding Osamu's continued existence from him, for working behind his back and telling him nothing. He wanted to imprison them both for betraying his trust and let them rot. But if he wanted his brother back in his life, some sacrifices had to be made. 

The first answer was a sigh of concession. It was followed up by an almost palpable tension that drained from Osamu's shoulders as they slumped in defeat. "Very well. I suppose I can send the data ahead to Hiroshima. My hypothesis has survived several computer tests so far; the next step is to develop the drug itself and test it against living samples of the virus."

"Which you can do once you've rested." Ken tried to use that tone that brooked no argument, but it sounded almost childish in his brother's presence. "I'm sure it's all very clever and I'll be duly impressed when you explain it to me, but it can wait."

The smile his brother gave him was wan, which was probably the most he could manage. "Fine. Go do whatever it is you need to do and let me stare at my tent until you have a helicopter ready for me and my partner."

Ken's eyebrow quirked at Osamu's choice of words, but he chose not to address it. He had too many other things to worry about, and he excused himself to attend to them.

.*.

In the aftermath of Koshikidake's fall, Juri made every effort to keep her contact with anyone else to a minimum. In her darkest moments, she preferred to be alone. Sometimes she sat with Osamu and let him bounce ideas off of her, and she tolerated it because he understood her. He said nothing about the fading rows she had raked into her arms during the quarantine; he'd merely looked them over and gave her a lotion to soothe the remaining inflammation. At least he had his work to distract him from his personal demons. 

The remaining rows in her arms were why she wore a long-sleeved blouse in the muggy heat of July. Once people found her again, she agreed to help facilitate the processing of Koshikidake and Higashine citizens. Ostensibly it was because they knew her as one of their own, and she did appreciate the logistics behind appointing her and Mrs. Yamaki to the task. It didn't mean she resented it any less. Still, it gave her something to do, and that counted for something. 

Having a task to do didn't stop her from folding on herself in a small corner, though. It was exhausting being around normal people, which was perhaps why she had never really dated anyone in earnest. She was sitting in an unused room in the courthouse the Iwakuni forces had appropriated for processing, her arms curled around the knees she brought to her chest, when she saw Takeru pursuing someone down a hall and asking about his parents for the hundredth time since she met him. Though Juri was tempted to leave it be and let him follow whatever false leads he might find, she got up and left the room to track him down. It was unkind to let him run around like this. Perhaps it was equally unkind to put a stop to this, but at least he would have an answer. 

Finding Takeru again wasn't difficult. He was tall, gangly, and a natural blond. She just had to follow the trail of uncomfortable-looking people who had probably deferred from saying anything definite. She found him upsetting a little old lady who had once been worth billions of yen and rescued her as quickly as she could. Perhaps she was a little harsh in yanking on his elbow.

"Come with me," she said as sternly as she could, though she was sure that she couldn't even intimidate a puppy. Takeru only offered up the briefest of physical resistance and gave up entirely when the old woman fled. He followed her to the parking lot where the Ferrari awaited. 

Initially she hadn't felt too bad about appropriating the keys when the Iwakuni agents allowed her to go through the key cabinet in the garage at Jinmachi. The spring-green sports car had belonged to a man who died of a heart attack two years before, and it had been lovingly kept up until then. It felt like such a shame to let it gather dust, especially when it was in her favorite color. It was like those bracelets Ryo kept bringing back for her; no one was using them anyway. But then no one said anything about her claiming it for herself, except for the mechanic who offered helpful suggestions for vehicle upkeep, and she kept feeling worse and worse about it as people turned a blind eye to her presumption. 

Fortunately, she didn't have the time for that right now. She slipped into the cream-colored leather driver's seat of the Ferrari and gestured for Takeru to get in. "You wanted answers. I'm taking you to them."

When finally he buckled himself in, she drove out of the parking lot and towards a place she had worked at for years under Kurata's demands. While she could have sped and ignored what speed limit signs remained, Juri thought it prudent to prepare him for the shock.

"I was found about twelve years ago by one of the foraging bands and I didn't bond with the guy who brought me in, so I was largely left alone." Her refusal to call the man her father had been a major issue, she recalled. At least Natsuko never asked to be called "mother". After the blows of losing her mother, Leomon, and then her father and friends, she hadn't wanted to get close to anyone else for years. Natsuko respected that, and Juri appreciated her acceptance more than she ever knew. "Your parents adopted me about two months into my stay at Koshikidake. Sort of. It wasn't as if they lived together. I just lived with Natsuko, and Hiroaki visited sometimes."

Takeru looked at her like she had grown an extra head. She supposed she didn't blame him, for she did shake his world for a bit. Natsuko told her that both her sons could be prone to clinging to certain ideals. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You had other things to worry about." She shrugged. That had been part of it, and avoiding drama was the other part. Juri had enough drama of her own, she didn't need to deal with other peoples' baggage and expectations. "That's not important. What's important is that they did try to get out to find you and your brother, but Kurata was busy hounding them for the information they managed to find on the virus. He thought they knew more than they did, and Hiroaki certainly hadn't helped in that respect. Around that time there was another kid they were taking care of, Kanehito, who was involved with the splinter group starting up then. Through Kanehito, they got involved in the first breakout attempt."

"So they're still out there," Takeru said quickly, hopefully. There was even the beginning of a smile. It was heartbreaking, really. She turned in to the entrance road of the now-emptied work camp and the smile fell away. Juri hadn't thought he'd been here before, but maybe he heard something from someone. 

"They broke out with the splinter group," she began as she parked the car and got out. Her throat thickened around a lump of bitterness over the memory, and she tamped it away the best she could. It was better if she didn't feel. When he got out, she avoided his eyes and continued, leading the way outside the fence of the work camp as she talked. "I didn't want to go. It wasn't safe and I knew everything would go bad. It always does. I just hid out in a dark corner, so I didn't see what happened. I just know that the escape was only somewhat successful. Your mother escaped with Kanehito and a few others in the splinter group. The rest were captured and taken here." 

They stopped at last at a haphazard grave site where the ashes of Koshikidake's unwanted were dumped without regards for the mixing of remains. A featureless slab of some rough, charcoal-grey stone she couldn't identify served as grave marker, and someone had made an effort at decency by setting up a small barrier around it for the funerary slats to lean on. Each slim plank of wood bore a given name that was either painted or hand-carved, because no Buddhist priest had presided over the establishment of the grave site or the bestowing of postmortem names. Juri flipped through the slats as if they were personnel files until she found the one she had painted. _Ishida Hiroaki, ?-April 4, 2007_. The white paint she'd renewed a couple of years ago, and it was peeling again. 

Juri wrapped her arms around herself, feeling empty and chill even though it was hot and muggy and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Takeru's face drained of color and she looked away. "Your mother is still out there somewhere. I don't know where."

He said nothing and simply sank to his knees in front of the gravestone, and Juri didn't know him well enough to know how to comfort him. But surely he should have known that his quest might not be successful, right? She could feel herself dissociating just watching him, and she twisted a bracelet around her wrist just tight enough to keep her grounded. Not enough to cut off circulation or break skin, just enough for her to feel the unyielding metal press hard into her skin. It was almost a relief when she let it go. "I'll be in the car when you need to go back," she said at last, when the white impressions of metal on her skin faded to nothing. When he didn't respond, she walked back to wait for him.

.*.

Things were slowly winding down at Higashine, and Daisuke had even dared to be optimistic about it. They'd liberated the work camps where Kurata sent his enemies, freed what was apparently a butcher shop of a vast human experiment (and for that, Osamu had taken over to guide people on how to handle the surviving contaminated victims and mitigate their symptoms the best they could), more people surrendered than he had hoped for, and Akari was being set up as interim community leader until Higashine could learn how to operate without Koshikidake's puppets running it. When he found Hikari after the liberation of the work camp, he'd felt as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. She was a calming influence on everyone, from the occupying forces to the ones who had voluntarily surrendered. An older man, formerly a commander for Koshikidake, had taken a shine to her and followed her around. It wasn't as creepy as Daisuke thought it might be, though perhaps that was because the older man treated her with the utmost respect. It was still pretty weird, but Daisuke expected that. When Tailmon, Taichi, and Agumon arrived, Daisuke wrote off any chance he might have to reconnect with her. Which he was surprisingly okay with, all things considered. They were her family, he wasn't. 

It was when the processing of civilians was over and the bulk of Iwakuni's forces started heading home that he'd come across Takeru again. Takeru followed Osamu's assistant (Sato?) around town with that lost look on his face that Daisuke almost didn't remember. It took him a moment, but then Daisuke recalled the smell of burning bodies and grimaced. He told V-mon to head back to camp without him and jogged to catch up with the two.

The woman noticed him first, and for the briefest moment she looked relieved. She paused and turned towards him, and her face became so placid that Daisuke wondered if he had been imagining things. "May I help you?"

Her voice was cool and so professional that Daisuke felt like he was tripping over his tongue. She reminded him far too much of a teacher he had once, not particularly stern but certainly unwilling to go out of her way to be friendly. "Er, can I, um…" He reached out and looped his arm around Takeru's elbow. Takeru's lack of response bugged the hell out of him and his eyes darted back to the woman. "What happened to my bud?"

"Bad news," the woman said simply. Her hand alighted on Takeru's shoulder. "If you need me, I'll be with Osamu." She paused, as if reconsidering her statement. "…I'll be around."

The question of what exactly that bad news _was_ tingled on the tip of Daisuke's tongue, but the woman left before he could find the right words. He bit back a sigh and butted his shoulder against Takeru's. Or at least he tried, and ended up butting with his upper arm instead. The grin might have been a bit forced, but it wasn't like Takeru was paying him much attention. "You thirsty? I scored a bottle of sake from one of the locals. It's that milky stuff you like."

Takeru simply stared at the ground as if he could see something Daisuke couldn't. The forced grin faded, and again Daisuke felt at a loss. He gripped Takeru's arm and stepped in front of him to catch his eye. "Dude, I want to help, but I can't unless you talk to me."

The distant look didn't disappear, not entirely, but at least Takeru answered him. His voice was quiet and rasped and faltered as if it came over the radio from a great distance. "All these years and I never considered that he might have died."

It didn't take Daisuke long to connect the dots, and his heart sank. This quest to find his parents had been Takeru's entire _deal_ for as long as they'd known each other. He had no idea how his friend was going to move on, but the least he could do was be there for him. But first he needed some help. "Damn. Sorry. Let's go find someplace quiet, okay?"

Takeru gave a brief nod and did not protest when Daisuke dragged him along to the Shinto shrine that Hikari and her group were cleaning out. They'd already trimmed the trees and cleared away the weeds, and only a stray dandelion flower remained as evidence of past overgrowth. Taichi, who had taken the watch with Agumon, took one look at the two and let them pass with little more than a sympathetic look. Hikari was guiding the shrine clean-up with gentle encouragements and praise padding the bulk of her orders, and her followers hummed as they swept the floors and polished the wood. A little looking around and he noticed Tailmon napping in the rafters. 

Hikari noticed them almost immediately after Daisuke stuck his head into the shrine. She excused herself from her followers and padded to Takeru's side. Her arm slipped around Takeru's back, and her free hand brushed the shaggy blond hair from his eyes. Were he not a better man, Daisuke might have been a little jealous of the concern on Hikari's face. As it was, he was just glad that the disconnect Takeru used to shield himself seemed to have disappeared with Hikari's touch. 

"Dad's dead," Takeru said at last. He tried to blink away what Daisuke was pretty sure were tears. "Has been for the past eight years."

Though she looked like she had long suspected as much, Hikari's voice was the spirit of compassion. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." She stood on her toes the best she could in those geta sandals and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Don't suppose you have Patamon with you?" The smile Takeru cracked had no humor in it, and felt more self-deprecating than anything, but it was something. And it gave Daisuke something to do. He peeled off, as Hikari could probably do a better job with comforting than he could right now.

"I'll go tell Ken to get you on the first flight home." Daisuke then turned and ran for base camp, which was in the process of packing up now that Akari was set in place to get the town back on track. At this hour, which was an unfairly sunny mid-afternoon, Ken was most likely to be in the processing center and former courthouse. A little asking around and he found Ken nursing a mug of that willow bark tea of his as he frowned down at hand-written papers. 

Ken looked up when Daisuke very nearly tripped over a broken tile and slammed the door against the wall in his effort to avoid a fall. In Daisuke's defence, he did run for several blocks. "Daisuke? Are you okay?"

"I'm great!" Daisuke flashed a quick, humorless grin. "Takeru isn't. He just got some really bad news. Can you spare a chopper to take him home to Patamon?"

Daisuke honestly expected an argument, or for Ken to defer with some excuse or another. He hadn't expected a quick response. "Of course. The next one should be leaving in an hour. Would you like to go with him?"

This time the grin was genuine. "Sure. Thanks. Who are we booting off? I'll go beg their forgiveness before we go."

Ken shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Osamu would weasel out of going back anyway, and his _limpet_ apparently won't go anywhere without his say-so. They'll be happy for the excuse to wait." There was some bitterness in Ken's tone, and Daisuke thought it better to avoid the subject. "Just get Takeru and V-mon and be at the field in an hour."

"You're the best! Thanks!" Daisuke just barely caught the glimmer of a smile on Ken's face before he darted out to find V-mon. 

It didn't take him long; V-mon usually hung out with the other digimon, who were making a ruckus playing soccer in the parking lot behind the courthouse. The lot was roped off, but it wasn't like many people had vehicles, anyway. Daisuke wanted to wait until V-mon was finished playing, but he didn't want to be late for the ride home. He waved and somehow managed to get V-mon's attention during the chaos of the game. His partner excused himself and trotted over to Daisuke's side. 

"What's up, Daisuke?"

"We're going home."

It was funny, he thought in retrospect, after he collected Takeru and they were waiting for Mizuki to finish her pre-flight checks. He hadn't thought of _any_ place as home for such a long time that he wondered why the word slipped so easily off his tongue when he thought of Iwakuni.

.*.

The month since Ruki's visit to Airu's brothel and pub had been mostly uneventful. For one thing, no one was stepping forward to serve as informant. Jauzi's contacts provided little more than ominous insinuations and innuendo, and Ruki had to refrain from commenting sarcastically that she could get more clarity from the fortune-tellers at market. A tropical storm earlier last month dropped enough rain to flood the river and force the market to move to higher grounds. The storms afterwards were too far away to do much more than drop a couple of centimeters of rain on the area, so life continued as usual. 

It was around early August, during a lull in the rainy season, that the local leaders were called to Iwakuni to try again. On one hand, Ruki could respect Ken's demonstration of boldness and trust in his decision to stage this thing in his own home. On the other hand, it was tantamount to foolishness to invite unknown elements inside the safety of Iwakuni's doors. After all, it wasn't so long ago that she'd wanted the Rocky Country's resources for herself. Still, she went along and got an unusually taciturn Takeru escorting her as a result. Given what she learned from one of her chats with Juri, it was to be expected and she refrained from verbally poking him. Much. 

Upon arrival, Ruki was assigned quarters for her indefinite stay and ended up bumping into Mimi and her son. She gamely withstood the proud clucking of a mother hen, though she wondered whether it was really wise to have a child sit in on something that was sure to fall apart into heated arguments. And, knowing some of the community leaders the way she did, she was pretty sure that the boy was going to come away with an entirely new batch of colorful vocabulary. It was almost a relief when they filed into the makeshift conference room and she and Mimi sat together in a show of solidarity. 

Thirty minutes later, Ruki decided that if someone offered her a chance to go back in time, she would have shoved Tobari fucking Ren into a locker and let him rot. He headed a collection of mountain towns of little more than bandits who controlled the Kan'etsu Expressway and Mikuni Highway going from the Tokyo area to Niigata, and he was infamous for extortion. He argued in defense of his practice of beating taxes from travelers entering his domain, which got Ken falling into the trap of trying to reason with him, and several others dogpiled on Ken once they saw an opening. It was a mess and Ruki was just glad that she decided to reserve her words for a time when they might actually count. 

Recess was called two hours into the session without much progress made, and she was already exhausted from the volatile energy in the room. For all that she'd said nothing at all, it felt like most of them were _watching_ her. Frankly, it made her skin crawl. She left the assembly as soon as she could and found her way to Ken's office, which was empty save for Leafmon dozing away on the sofa. He was almost enough of a deterrent for her to consider leaving, but then she noticed the willow bark tea on a hot plate and ditched that idea entirely. It wasn't sake, but it would do.

While she was pouring herself a cup to mitigate the headache from the arguments, Ken walked in and cocked an eyebrow at her presumption. Ruki shrugged and leaned against the shelves. "You owe me."

"Mmm." Ken walked past her to pour his own cup and joined her against the shelves. His shoulders slumped as he sipped. "You've been quieter than usual."

Ruki shrugged. It really didn't seem worth it, not at this point. What she had to say could wait until they were ready. When she got all the words just right in her head. "I'll speak when the time comes."

They lapsed into silence, and at some point Leafmon rolled over in his nap and brought a brief smile to Ken's face. But, as the seconds ticked away, it faded back into the lines of worry that grew more frequent with time. Part of her wanted to whip him into shape, make him angry enough to go back into the arena and fight. The better part of her, however… "Want to know why they're fighting you so hard?"

"You would probably know better than me," Ken admitted. 

She gave the barest of nods and pressed on, trying to articulate her thoughts the best she could. The mug of willow bark tea was cooling in her hands, but she ignored it for the time being. "Those of us who rose to power did so on our own, and we've had to fight the entire way while still fending off betrayal, con jobs, and assassination attempts. But we all want the same thing: a better world than the one we grew up in. Something to pass onto the kids. If you've never seen a birth, here's how it goes: it's always messy and almost always painful for both mother and child. There's usually a lot of screaming. If we play our cards right, what is born of this mess can be cultivated into the kind of world you want to build."

The briefest glimmer of a smirk tugged at the corners of Ken's lips. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Long enough." Ruki paused to swallow down a few gulps of tea. It helped, a little, but she would still prefer to have her aspirin in pure pill form. Time to switch topics. "My sources say that we should expect someone from the Empire to turn up sometime soon. Your people should keep an eye out."

"Oh, well, I was wondering if things were going too smoothly," Ken said, and she appreciated the hint of sarcasm in his voice. The screaming fits some people had were probably still ringing in his ears. He would be okay. 

Ruki flashed him a smile in response and finished her tea. She set the mug aside and gave his good shoulder a light jab. She still needed to talk to Mimi, among others, and recess would soon be over. "Don't worry your pretty head over things too much. You'll be okay. Trust me, I still haven't played my ace."

Ken smiled back, and she left his office with a wave.

.*.

The next day proved to be just as difficult as the previous, and Ken wondered vaguely how long labor could possibly last. And he never quite thanked Ruki properly for that awful mental image. She was still keeping her thoughts to herself even now, and only occasionally had a word or two with Mimi. And Mimi, well… if he was honest with himself, he never expected her son to be this attentive throughout the discussions and arguments. He reminded Ken a lot of Osamu, when they were both younger. And that brought his mind back to his brother. 

Osamu had grudgingly agreed to return, but he was seldom seen outside of his quarters. On the few times Ken attempted to see his brother, Ryo answered the door and told him that Osamu was still resting. Or he was doing research and didn't want to be disturbed. Or something along those lines. After a while, Ken gave up and decided that he didn't want to know what his brother was _actually_ recovering from. The more practical side of him suggested that at least he wouldn't have to find quarters for Ryo, and maybe it was better not to ask how long this whole thing had been going on for. 

When the gaggle of community leaders returned from their second recess of the day, Ken was already standing in front of his podium with his speech thoroughly memorized. His eyes wandered over them as they settled in; clan alphas bristled with distrust, mayors and governors of peaceful villages watched them anxiously, the guy who made himself a pain early on the day before stood with an almost belligerent air, and the only ones who seemed pretty sure of things were Ruki and Mimi. Ken was sure that they were planning something, but he couldn't possibly guess what it was.

"I know that we all have different views of how to achieve the same thing. I know that none of this is going to be easy," Ken began once they all settled in. "I understand. But in order to go forward, we need to work out our differences. We all bring something valuable to the table that's better shared than hoarded. No other prefecture in Honshu matches Niigata in rice production. Tobari, your Gunma villages are reknown for their sake. Osaba in Hiroshima is currently the largest trade hub in Honshu, and its technological development is accelerating at an unprecedented pace thanks to the alliances Ruki forged with other areas. The best seafood comes out of Miyagi. Through the Ryukyu and Ainu nations, we now have trade links to the mainland and southeast Asia. It is better to pool our resources together than hoard them. With a government in place, we can facilitate each other's growth and, in time, become greater than anything our parents could have hoped for us. We can build a better government, one free of the ghosts of the past. One that is kinder, more tolerant. One that lifts all of us up instead of grinds down the least of us. We won't be able to solve all our problems, but this is a start. Now that we've heard from everyone, it's time to decide whether you are all willing to unite in a new Japan."

Tobari unfolded his arms and stepped forward. He looked almost insufferably smug, and Ken was immediately wary. "Someone's missing. Why? You don't want us to hear all our options?"

"Er, no," Ken managed to say without sputtering. For all his preparations and contingency plans, he never expected this kind of interruption. Had he forgotten to invite someone? "But—"

"You have a visitor. Let him in and hear him out."

With great reluctance, Ken turned to Sora and told her to allow the doors to open for this stranger. As they waited, his sense of danger increased with every passing minute. Tobari was right, after all. He had avoided inviting the Empire, and for good reason. Whatever Tobari was playing at couldn't be good for any of them. In time, they were joined by a tall man who was so well-dressed and well-groomed that he could have walked out of a movie. His shiny shoes clapped casually on the concrete floor as he joined Ken at his podium as if he belonged there. The way Ruki's eyes narrowed at the man was deeply unsettling and Ken wondered if letting him in was a good idea. 

"Good afternoon, my friends," the young man said with deceptive self-assurance. His white teeth glinted in the glare of the electric lights, and his hair practically gleamed. "I am Masahiko, emissary for our lord, Emperor Gyouichiro. Our lord was amused to learn of this gathering. We've heard that thanks to such a weak leader, there has been much strife over such tiny details as trade agreements. Our lord sent me to extend his most gracious invitation: join us, and you will be well rewarded. Through hard work, we've made a glorious return to our pre-Apocalypse standard of living, and you and yours can all benefit."

The nagging misgivings that started when Tobari interrupted him grew to full alarm, and Ken had to do something to salvage his position. "How was that standard of living achieved? Through slave labor?"

"There is ample employment for everyone in the Empire," the emissary deflected smoothly. "Even those with no skills and no direction have a purpose under the benevolent guidance of our Emperor. Everyone succeeds."

Ken had to bite his tongue to keep his tone civil, but still he responded. "None moreso than the dictator."

Rather than rise to the bait, the emissary smiled as if Ken was a particularly dense child and continued. "Our lord was blessed by the circumstances of his birth and entrusted by his people to speak for us. With one strong leader, there's no need for this kind of squabbling. Join us, join the Empire, and you gain the Emperor's favor."

Ruki rose at long last, as if this was exactly what she had been waiting for. She strode up to the podium without invitation and stopped before the emissary. Her pale purple eyes stared unblinkingly at Masahiko, and Ken was reminded of a snake ready to strike. "I think it's time for me to say my piece."

"You must be the infamous Queen Ruki." For the first time since entering, the emissary looked almost perplexed. It was gone in less than a second, and his self-assured countenance returned. "Our Emperor has expressed interest in—"

Whatever the emissary was going to say died in his throat when Ruki shot him a look of pure venom and turned to address the crowd. In her tailored black suit accented by a string of tiger's teeth around her neck and her hair pulled sharply back without a strand out of place, she looked as terrifying as her reputation made her out to be. "The Empire offers us a dictator who depicts himself as benevolent, but our trade networks with Ryukyu have been severed ever since Amaterasu fell. This is a threat, and these promises this man makes are empty. 

"Like the Emperor, Ken could force us to fall in line. This place certainly has all the firepower he would need for that kind of conquest. What Ken offers are his ideas, not himself. The problem here is that people follow the leader, and those ideas are secondary to the figurehead. For the sake of our people and their children, you must look past the man to the ideas." Ruki pulled a piece of paper from her blazer and handed it off to Mimi to pass around. Upon finding it later, Ken would be reminded uncomfortably of some pictures in Osamu's history books of Mao Zedong as portrayed in propaganda posters. "The Emperor would have you worship him and be too blinded by his excess to see all the broken bodies that support him. Ken is imperfect, yes, and too modest for his own good. But I would rather follow him because he would be accountable to us. Why do you think the Empire's borders have been closed for so long? Because they do not want you to see the reality of what goes on within them. But here, you can go up to anyone who lives here and ask how their day has been, and they'll tell you honestly because they have nothing to hide. I would rather follow Ken and his dreams than follow a man who built his empire on fear and a cult of personality. If you want to leave, then leave. If you want to join me and Ken, then stand and be counted."

The seconds that followed were almost agonizing in their silence. Ken tried not to be anxious, especially as the emissary looked more and more smug, but…

Then Mimi rose, and the jostling of the dangling beads of her kanzashi caught the light and seemed to break the spell Ruki's words had on the others. One by one, the assembly rose to be counted. Two, Tobari and a representative for a clan that ran Ishinomaki, walked away and Ken had to mentally add them to his private watch list. Not that he expected much from them; Tobari's villages were too small, and Ishinomaki was nearer to the Ainu nation than the Empire. Still, it was disappointing to lose anyone. When the rest finally stood, Ruki's intimidating presence seemed to abate and she relaxed enough to say, "Welcome to the new National Diet."

The emissary nodded graciously, though perhaps he wasn't as quick to hide his disapproval as he could have been. He left the podium and retraced his steps, and Ken intercepted him before he could leave the room. "I don't know what you thought you'd achieve by coming here," Ken began coldly, "but your self-styled emperor is not going to win."

"You keep thinking that," the emissary responded with that smugness that Ken found so grating. "Good luck maintaining order. It won't last. _This place_ won't last."

Then the emissary left, escorted by the security guards, and Ken couldn't quite quell the discomfort that had dampened what should have been a cause for celebration. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The oiran were a class of courtesans in the early Edo period, and while they could be sex workers, they were primarily entertainers. Tayu were the highest ranking of the oiran class; they could be exclusively entertainers and were able to reject clients at will. While this system has largely gone extinct in Japan and the niche of the oiran was later filled by the geisha, in SN it gained a resurgence because it is very, very difficult to find a geiko oneesan (geisha matron, sort of) to train newbies. 
> 
> \- Small-molecule anti-genomic therapeutics are broad-spectrum drugs designed to target specific DNA/RNA signatures. While this technology exists in the real world now, Osamu had to figure it out on his own. 
> 
> \- Yeah so I've been really busy and burned out and lacking in drive lately. Sorry.


End file.
